


The Act of Recovery

by TheOrangeAurora



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, Emotional Abuse, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, PBB2017, Phandom Big Bang 2017, Recovery, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOrangeAurora/pseuds/TheOrangeAurora
Summary: When Dan arrived at the household of the newest recovering drug addict, he expected it to be the same mundane, but important work that he had committed to a few years back. What he didn't expect was that his whole life would be turned around one tentative step at a time, and what was supposed to be his work would become his own salvation.Second place in Phanfic Awards 2017 for the Best Long (20k+) fic!





	The Act of Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Oooff, it's finally here, my Phandom Big Bang fic! I had this idea before the PBB but hadn't gotten around to writing it but I'm kind of glad that I ended up writing it as part of this though it meant that I had to wait to post it :') I had highly underestimated how long this would end up being, too, ahaha, but I don't regret it one bit!
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta @starryskylester (and my artist @mravrich) who were my team within this event and who were absolutely wonderful (And honestly, the Beta-ing made this fic so much more than it would've been otherwise!). A heartfelt thank you to @dancestz without whom I don't think it would have written this as good. And from the very bottom of my heart I want to thank @philscurls who was my writing buddy through a big part throughout this fic! <3 And of course to @gevaudanrises and @parentaladvisorybullshitcontent who were both stuck listening to me rant about it through this whole time :'D And thank you to @snowbunnylester for the help with the title!  
> Thank you so much <3 And I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :') (all of these people you can found on tumblr <3)
> 
> [You can now find some amazing, amazing art for this fic here!](http://etoilesdephan.tumblr.com/post/169588111239/vivianadichiara-hello-im-back-from-the)

The cobblestone steps looked fragile, as if the mere touch of a breeze could make them crumble. When Dan set his foot on the first step though, it felt as sturdy as a mountain, ready to take on the strongest of winds, to stand its ground and to fulfill its function for decades to follow. It was the first time Dan had related to a piece of concrete and stone so much, and he looked at his feet for a little longer before inhaling and looking up at the heavy wooden door in front of him.

“Here we go again,” He murmured to himself and allowed a small smile grace his lips as he brought up and rattled his knuckles against the door. The sound echoed inside the house, dully, and for a moment there was no answer. His only companions were the city sounds, the small suitcase next to him, and the backpack slung over the shoulder.

It was a certain type of silence. One would think it was eternal, never to change.

Any other time he would've looked at the address again, to double check if he had arrived at the right place, but this time he didn't. He knew what his task was, he understood the way some of them lived, knew the way recovery worked and how sometimes it didn't, he knew that the family had warned him in advance that though the house looked run down it was just as good as any other and served as a decent shelter extremely well.

They had also mentioned that Philip had the unfortunate habit of ignoring guests. At least according to his father.

Dan brought his hand up again, completely zoning out the sound of the street behind him where the horn of a taxi was impatiently pressed down and the revving of engines filled the street with grey fumes, poisoning the air steadily. As soon as his knuckles collided with the seemingly immovable wood, the door was suddenly pulled open, however only just enough so a face could peek through the crack.

It was a handsome face, Dan noted instantly. But what Dan noticed soon after were the deep dark circles around the eyes, hidden behind dark-rimmed glasses, the way that hollow cheeks illuminated the unhealthy hue the man's skin held, dark stubble adding to the roughened look. There was a crease in the man's forehead and annoyance in his pale blue eyes as well as a degree of apprehension.

“You're that nanny they sent me, aren't you.” Though technically a question, the way the words were pronounced were more of accusation than curiosity.

“If you mean your sober companion, yes, that's me,” Dan, completely unphased by the unwelcoming manner of Philip, replied and shifted, “May I enter? I was told that there's a room for me to reside in.”

“Is there now?” The man sneered lowly, but pulled the door open before disappearing into the house without another word. Dan took this as the invitation and, dragging the suitcase behind him, entered the house.

It had a bare feeling about it. The walls hadn't seen a touch-up in a while, and the corners were full of dust. There were shelves of books but only some seemed to have been moved in months, the rest sat neatly side by side, colours dulled by the bleaching of the sunrays and a layer of dust. He couldn't blame Philip for not choosing to read them though, they looked like they fit into an archive library more than in the home of a twenty-something.

The furniture littered randomly across the living room was old and there were some pillows and a worn-out blanket on one of the sofas, marking where an unmade bed had been left.

Aside from that, Dan noticed some odd boxes and the most curious objects scattered around the surfaces. All in all, this wasn't the worst place that he'd lived in when it came to his work and there was a little smile on his lips still as he dropped his backpack in a corner, causing a small cloud of dust to go up in the air.

Despite everything, Dan found the place considerably homey.

“So what, you're going to follow me around now and report every step so my poor ma and pa don't have to worry about me using again?” Phil suddenly seemed to emerge from nowhere, leaning against the doorframe, shoving grapes, one by one, into his mouth. Eyes seemingly measured Dan up and down almost like he was preparing to fight the other man.

It was nothing new to Dan. Hostility and accusatory tones were something he'd dealt with on one too many occasions in his line of work. He was familiar with the borderline paranoid effects of post-acute withdrawal syndrome, and even if he didn't know that this man was fairly recently out of rehab, he would've been able to guess it.

“I am here to ensure that you don't relapse, and continue with the sober programme as assigned post rehabilitation,” Dan explained, a pleasant smile on his lips, hands stuffed into his pockets casually as though he was there to hang out rather than work. “I'll accompany you to your meetings and you will have to check in with me every couple of hours before I contact the police. And to ensure that the routine tests are conducted.”

He could see how the other man completely lost his appetite. So - Dan continued on, watching how Philip was rolling the grape between his fingers, “I am not here to nanny you, as much as it feels like it. I'm here to help you not give up on the programme. I am here if you need someone to talk to, or if you need me to take you somewhere to help you take your mind off anything triggering.”

His words were met with a scoff.

“Is this the first thing they teach you, act like you're every addict's best friend?” Philip squeezed the grape between his fingers so tightly that even Dan could see that the berry was about to burst.

“I'm not trying to be your best friend,” Dan, voice cool and calm, corrected, “But I am a person who is here to help you, not judge you. I want you to know that you aren't alone.” He took a step forward, but instantly Philip's whole frame moved just as far back, eyes widening the slightest bit. As soon as the moment was gone, Philip scoffed again and turned around to disappear into what Dan assumed to be the kitchen.

“Well, sucks to be you, I don't keep my phone charged,” Though not an excuse Dan hadn't heard before, it still struck a chord and Dan followed, completely ignoring the rest of the flat that he'd been so keen on observing beforehand.

“You have no choice now, and I don't want to set constant police surveillance on you,” It was a threat he hated a lot, but a necessary one. It established Dan's role in the situation and how dedicated he was to ensure success.

“What if I don't care?”

Dan frowned at that, “Stop acting childish, Philip--”

“Pleeeeease,” The other man interrupted with a long-drawn sound. He stopped suddenly and turned towards Dan, making Dan halt in his tracks of following. “You're already a nuisance, I don't want to feel like my father is breathing down my neck again. Philip this and Philip that, you're a bloody disgrace Philip, go to rehab Philip, we don't want to deal with this but you need help so we don't look bad, Philip.”

Dan was taken aback by the sudden outburst. He was used to learning more about every client's background, but never quite this soon and so telling.

“At least call me Phil, won't give me a reason to want to cave your head in while you're freeloading here,” That said, Phil pulled the fridge door open and stuck his head inside, leaving Dan with only a partial view of the other man.

“Alright, Phil,” Dan paused, allowing a small smile to grace his lips again, “I'm Dan, nice to--”

“And there he goes with politeness. I don't really see this as a nice meeting so don't waste your breath,” Dan furrowed his brows at the other man, noticing how the words became muffled towards the end of the sentence only to relax when he noticed the piece of bread stuffed in Phil's mouth as the man bustled around to make what seemed a sandwich. Dan watched as the lean man made an absolute mess on the table, humming something to himself as if Dan wasn't even present.

“What?” All of a sudden Phil spoke again, his voice rough and loud, and Dan jumped a little at that. He'd been distracted by the way the man moved, by the way his face smoothed into what almost shadowed a smile when he hummed, and by how his fingers seemed to try to be delicate though absolutely clumsy by default. It was effort, however masked by the hostile exterior, and despite everything, Dan felt glad. “I'll charge the damn phone, but don't expect me to have it on me at all times,” Dan saw the blue irises disappear for a moment as the man rolled his eyes at him and tried to return to the clumsy sandwich.

“Thank you,” Dan was not discouraged by the cold attitude and instead he turned to grab his bag, only to pause when he looked around the unfamiliar flat. 

“What now?” Dan felt like he was being watched when Phil so quickly reacted, but he simply humoured a low laugh at that. There was no need to give Phil any more reasons to worry about Dan's intents.

“Forgot to ask about my room in the midst of our _extremely_ pleasant first interaction,” And he let a little sarcasm slip into his speech. It was his approach to things, what helped him not take things to heart as much, what made the interaction seem more human for both parties.

“Upstairs, second left. That's the only free one. Should have some linen in the closet, I don't know,” If only for a mere second, Dan noted the peace in the other man's voice.

At that moment he knew that things would work out.

======

The room that he was faced with was dusty and clearly hadn't seen the presence of an inhabitant for a long time. It was probably the least homey place in the whole flat too; the windows were blocked closed with some kind of plastic that looked like trash bags, the bed was clearly not slept in for years. There was a lone brown chair next to an extremely small wooden table and a walk-in closet with the door slightly ajar, as if it wasn't closing properly anymore. The floor was largely bare except for the time-bleached bedside carpet that Dan assumed still seemed fluffy only because of the layer of dust over it.

There was a drawer hidden behind the door, and Dan heaved a sigh when the door creaked unpleasantly as he released the door knob and it began to fall open.

A lot of work had to be put into making the place into an at least somewhat pleasant residence for the six month duration of his contract.

“Well at least he wasn't wrong about this,” Dan muttered to himself when he pulled the closet open and found several sets of bed linen and, thankfully, vacuum bags along with a blanket and pillows hidden in the shelves.

It was a moment before he realised that he was being watched and he looked up, a little sweaty and warm-cheeked after getting out from under the bed where some of his belongings had spilled to when he'd made the mistake of opening his bag carelessly. It was a slightly amusing sight too, the tall man holding a sandwich in both hands, a little childlike, and his cheeks puffy with the amount of food stuffed in his mouth.

“Yes?” Dan, voice pleasantly neutral, asked while brushing aside his fringe, now slightly plastered to his forehead with the beads of sweat.

Phil didn't answer though, and just kept munching away at the sandwich, eyes roaming around the cleared corners of the room and the made bed as well as the pile of Dan's belongings that hadn't yet been set aside, now a mess on top of the bed covers.

Dan, however odd he found the behaviour, was also trained to be used to these habits. To be stared at, making his skin crawl, to be acted rude towards, to be lied to and to be begged for a leeway. He knew of it all, had experienced a lot, so although it bugged him, he hid it behind the trained mask.

“I have your number already,” He went on explaining, using Phil's presence productively all the while fluffing up a pillow and grabbing the monochrome selection of shirts and jeans to store them in the drawers. “I'll send you a message so you can-,'' Though he felt the glare on his skin, he merely drew his phone from his pocket and with quick taps at the screen, sent the message, “-add my number, we'll keep in touch through that.”

There was a ding of an arriving message somewhere else in the flat and Dan smiled at Phil who seemed to have completed his meal finally, now simply measuring Dan up and down once more, arms crossed over his chest again. His fingers were tapping against his arm, and when Phil realised that Dan was eying them, Phil stuffed his palm under his arm pointedly.

“We'll settle on which meeting time and place works the best for you tomorrow,” As if nothing had happened, Dan smiled up at Phil again.

There was only a scoff for an answer, and Phil pushed himself to turn to leave. Dan watched the other man beginning to retreat, only to curiously arch his brow when Phil stopped. “The food's not for sharing,” He could hear some satisfaction in that announcement before Phil disappeared into another room, the door firmly shut behind him.

Dan sighed, plopping down on the bed with elbows resting on his knees as he looked at the time on his phone. Part of his duties was to help his clients with learning to live a regular life again, to be their daily companion that would help them settle into the routine of necessities and to find how to fill their free time productively. He'd done it several times, quite successfully too, but it didn't make the beginning any less difficult.

It was always a new place, and it was also something that he needed to adapt to, that with the unfamiliar surroundings and people.

He hadn't even looked up the nearest store yet and it was already getting rather late.

“Granola it is,” He murmured, fishing the partially broken bar from his backpack, unwrapping it and biting down on the crispy treat. It wasn't much, but it would keep him going till the morning. There was just a little bit of anger at himself for not having thought ahead about it; though his contract had included the full accommodation, it was less about what was written on the paper and more about the one who already lived there.

As he chewed away on the granola, he wandered around the large flat, finding the bathroom, the tall ceiling making every sound echo a little too much for Dan's liking. There was a door, locked, but it didn't take long to figure that it probably lead to the roof. As he walked down, he saw the kitchen and the living room as well as the other door leading down to the basement. Curiosity got the best of him, and the door was ajar, so he peeked in. He'd expected some mystery, or some information that could be helpful, but all he found was some more old furniture and some household tools.

And a random box of sunflower seed packs, open and overturned, the contents removed a while ago judging by the already familiar coating of dust.

Though generally a homey place, Dan couldn't help but to feel that it had been abandoned for a long time before Phil had moved in and the man hadn't bothered to clean it after the arrival. It was a home of potential, but the new tenant really hadn't bothered to try and use it.

Dan smiled at that.

If there was one thing Dan loved it was designing interior; how to arrange furniture, and deciding what colour the walls should be. And this house was a dusty canvas for painting the recovery process, bit by bit. He knew that he could neither invest in the place, nor could he force Phil to do it, but he knew one - the environment was important in recovery and he was given the easiest job for improving it.

It was with that peaceful thought that Dan lay in bed about two hours later after having set up his internet access and taken a shower. During that whole time he had only heard Phil once, the other man rather quick and sneaky about when to leave his room and when to dive back into it just in time to avoid Dan.

“This will go well,” He murmured to himself, confidently, before turning over, huddling up in the blanket that smelled a little bit like dust. Sleep enveloped him soon.

…

His whole bed was vibrating with the intensity and his ears were aching from the overstimulation of the low timbres constantly running across every surface in the room. A low, a bit moany, sound registered in Dan's groggy brain, eyes stinging painfully when he reached out to grab the phone and check the time.

3am.

The music slowly began to make sense as one familiar song changed to another of a different band that Dan was familiar with.

He couldn't find the joy in the familiar tunes though, and he grabbed the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds out. Too tired to get out of the bed, he didn't want to deal with neighbours who would party so often.

The dusty scent finally reached his awakening senses and with that the memory of his whereabouts returned, too.

He wasn't at the university. Hell, he hadn't been there for years now. Yet his dreams had brought him back to the smoke filled room that was lined with laughter and occasional claps on the shoulder or the clink of bottles as somebody accidentally kicked over an empty one.

No, where he was now was the outskirts of London in a new home years after he'd moved away from Manchester.

And the sound was not neighbours. It was the sound of the reality of his job.

Finally Dan pushed himself up, grabbing the wrinkly t-shirt that he'd left by the bed earlier and pullinged it over his head. Stumbling a little, he let the creaky door fall wide open and he traipsed across the hall and towards the source of the music. The solid wood didn't do much about muffling the sound, which was mercilessly turned up to what seemed like maximum.

He knocked, the knuckles a little clumsy against the door with how groggy Dan was.

There was no response.

“Phil?” Dan called out, his voice hoarse as he tried to catch a quieter moment in the music. When there was no answer, he knocked on the door louder, calling out the other man's name again, voice raised by a notch.

When he tried again and there was no sound, he put his hand on the handle, a little bit of worry mixing with tired annoyance as he pressed the handle down. Before he could push the door open though, it was pulled away from him in a manner a lot like hours ago when Dan had just arrived.

“Why the hell are you trying to snoop around my room, it's off-limits,” Phil's face was scrunched up in annoyance but Dan swore that he could see an evil glint behind those blue eyes. It was challenging, trying to see if Phil was already too much for Dan to handle. And it was tired in a manner that Dan was so familiar with - the insomniac’s dark circles under the slowly blinking eyes, the way though the man stood tall, his limbs were visibly feeling heavy, and the fingers gripping the door seemed to be trying just a little too hard.

“Please turn down the music,” Dan responded with politeness though his tired mind was asking to spit annoyance.

“Didn't know you were here to order me around,” Instantly Phil's whole stance became defensive, arms coming up to cross over his chest again, chin a little raised, body leaning on the wall by the door. Dan just pressed his lips together, counting to ten in his mind before he could let something unprofessional slip.

Dan, after all, was a swearer, an outspoken person, but his work had trained him to keep it to when out with friends. Which wasn't something he did very often, and the feeling was piling up.

“Listen,” He said, voice a little strained but he only heaved a sigh, trying to ignore the blare of the music coming from within Phil's room, “I know you hate the fact I'm here.”

“What gave you that impression?”

Dan just ignored himthat and continued, “But the better we get on, the easier it will be for me to report back to your family and you won't have to deal with me much longer,” It was not the best bargaining, but it was one of the ways they had told him to approach such cases.

“Aren't you on a set contract anyway?” Though not clearly budging, Dan could see the momentary interest that he had sparked with his words.

“I am,” Dan started and instantly saw Phil's face darken again “But they hired me for the shortest period of time to see if they’d have to get someone more long-term for you.”

Though not entirely true, Dan spoke clearly, casually, and the lie was enough to set back the other man's resistance.

“Fine,” Phil finally said and turned, kicking his door closed and slamming it in Dan's face, making the young man jump and blink at the wooden texture a bare couple of centimeters from his nose.

Thankfully however, the music was turned down, still playing but at a lot more contained volume as another song in the mixed playlist began to play.

Dan could only wonder if Phil had any chance to sleep with so much background noise.

======

“Come on, we're going to miss the bus,” Dan frowned at Phil, seated by the kitchen table in a pair of underwear and a very worn out shirt, picking at the pancakes that he'd made sometime between Dan having left for the store and returning. The kitchen was a mess, and it had taken Dan a while of cleaning up before he could prepare some breakfast for himself, all the while Phil just lazily kept plucking at the pancake with his fingers, dipping it into the jam on the side, other hand busy with either the mug of coffee or scrolling onward in his phone on a page that seemed to be filled with memes.

In any other situation Dan would've been curious; music and memes were definitely a good reason to strike up a conversation. In this case, however, it was clear that Phil was just wasting time after Dan had announced that they would be attending a meeting already.

“Rem--” He started only to stop when Phil suddenly stood up.

“Shut up, I heard you the first twenty times,” The messy plate of food and the empty cup were left on the table, an offending reminder of the earlier mess that Dan had had to clear up. Phil disappeared upstairs and Dan tapped his foot while glancing at the time impatiently. He knew not to be the one to complain about others being late, but it was part of the routine that he did his best to abide by.

Thankfully, moments later Phil emerged again, the only change in his attire being that jeans and socks had joined the earlier clothing he'd worn.

“What?” The older man asked, brow arched when he noted the way Dan's eyes looked over the outfit, “I'm not dressing up for this load of bull if that's what you expected.”

Dan heaved a sigh, grabbing his phone and wallet, “Let's go, we'll talk about this later.”

And he could almost swear that he heard Phil mutter something to himself, but it was lost in the sounds of the city, the seemingly never-ceasing traffic jams polluting the air.

======

“Would anyone like to share today?” The head spokesperson stood at the front of the room, smiling a little as he surveyed the room with an expectant gaze, about thirty minutes after Dan had finally gotten Phil to leave the house. Now, as they sat near the back of the rows of former addicts, Dan felt like some progress was being made.

That is, until he would look over at Phil. Long legs sprawled out in front of him, Phil had sunk into his seat, arms crossed over his chest again, and with what seemed like a permanent discontent on his face.

“Please,” Dan heard the spokesman invite a young woman to the front and Dan smiled a little as he looked at her; she seemed to be well.

“Hello everyone, my name is Claire and I'm an addict,” The room filled with a monotone murmur of “Hello Claire” as most people present greeted her.

Phil meanwhile was staring at his nails as if they were the most fascinating objects in the universe. His lips never moved, and only his brows would dance every now and then, with bare minimum of a reaction to everything that he could hear around.

“I started using drugs while partying in University, I thought it would be fun, light drugs,” She laughed, weakly and some equally weak laughs echoed back from the others and she smiled at the crowd. Dan, increasingly curious about the young woman's story, regarded her calmly, his hands on his lap relaxed.

“Before I knew it,” There was a small pause that felt dramatic though everyone knew that it was more for her to compose her thoughts instead, “I was snorting dodgy cocaine just to get the high to last, mixing it with alcohol just so I couldn't feel it wearing off as quickly.”

There was a snort, loud and inappropriate to the situation, and instantly Claire fell silent. Dan, his eyes wide, turned towards the source of the sound, only to see Phil's face wretched into a scowl. “You're at a meeting,” Dan hissed at him lowly, offering apologetic smiles to people who were now staring; some looked judgemental, others - just curious of the disruptor.

“Oh really? I couldn't tell,” Phil sneered back, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he rolled his eyes, as if completely unbothered by the stares, though Dan could see that his fingers were keenly curling into the sleeve of his jacket.

“Er, okay, let's have a break before we continue,” The spokesman butted in finally, and instantly Phil stood up and turned to get out into the other room where some snacks and drinks had been laid out for anyone to have. Dan, giving one last apologetic look around, stood up and followed. He saw the vanishing back of the other man in the doorway and he jogged across the room and out of the meeting hall.

“Phil, wait!” He called out, catching up quickly and reached out to grab Phil's shoulder to stop him. Phil pulled out of Dan's grasp instantly, but stopped.

“What in the world was that?” Dan asked, annoyance mixing with concern, breath hitching a little from the brief sprint.

“A party girl who got out of line, boo-hoo, I'm supposed to sympathise with her? Perhaps even _empathise_?” Phil, same mocking tone in voice, said, bringing his arms up in what seemed frustration, all whilst avoiding looking at Dan.

“Phil, these meetings are for everyone to share their stories, and sure,” Dan motioned back to where the door to the meeting hall was, “Maybe her story is not something you can relate to, but understanding what each of you have gone through can help.”

“How? How is me listening about others' downfalls going to help me? I'm not some sadist that feels great hearing how others' lives have sucked,” There was anger burning in Phil's words and when their eyes met, the air between them was full of needles.

“Have you ever talked in one of these?” Dan, even though he was unnerved by the coldness of the other man, tried to stay calm, rational. Moodiness was something he'd faced far too many times in his line of job. It's what made it so hard for others to actually specialise in the field. The human stubbornness was a blessing and a curse wrapped in the same package.

“I'm not going to explain my sob story to a bunch of people who are there just because they have to be,” And his words felt final.

Dan relaxed his stance, and smoothed the wrinkles that had formed on his shirt, slowly, deliberately, “Trust me, they care, it might not seem like it and you might disagree, but you all care to hear others' stories.”

Phil just snorted and turned his back, beginning to walking away, and Dan let him, watching the departing frame thoughtfully.

======

“I'm back, and I brought some Indian take-away,” Dan announced when he entered the flat, a plastic bag in hands.

After the commotion at the meeting, Dan had left to have a small walk, to give Phil enough space to calm down. It was on his way that he had realised that he was hungry, and the memory of Phil picking at food without properly eating it had crossed his mind. In hopes that the other man wasn't opposed to Indian food, Dan had taken the liberty of ordering for both.

“Phil?” He called out again as he set the food on the kitchen table. The house was ominously quiet, and there was no sign of Phil. The silence was surprising for Dan who had been sure that those were the same shoes that Phil had worn when they left, carelessly thrown off by the door, but a little doubt started looming in Dan's mind when he called out again and was greeted by nothing but more silence.

He dug into his pocket, fishing out the phone and checking the time. It had been a good two hours since he'd last seen the other man. With a sigh, Dan unlocked the phone, and quickly dialed up Phil's number. It was a practice that Dan was used to though he wasn't usually that keen to talk on the phone.

A low buzz began somewhere behind him and Dan spun around, spotting the phone left on the edge of the counter, the screen lighting up with Dan's caller ID, still apparently unknown to the phone, but Dan recognised the digits.

He dropped the call, and tried to keep himself calm as he made his way upstairs. It was merely possible that Phil had left his phone behind.

And yet Dan's expertise made him uneasy.

Phil had clearly been upset last they spoke, and there was always a chance that Dan had made the wrong decision letting him walk away as he had. There had been signs that he should have been more worried about; the apparent insomnia, the nervous habits, the lack of appetite when the food was properly presented.

“Are you in there?” He knocked on Phil's door, but the door remained locked and no sound indicated Phil occupying it right now.

Phone clutched in his hand, he made his way towards the bathroom, both puzzled and concerned as the silence remained, only disturbed by Dan and the muffled sounds of the city beyond.

A light breeze ran across his scalp and he shivered, eyes searching around to find the source of it.

His heart nearly stopped when he noticed that the door to the roof was ajar.

Instantly dialing 999, he cautiously made his way up the stairs, the roof door unexpectedly silent when pushed aside. Step by step, the stairway seeming endless, he climbed the stairs, only to be met with another half-open door. His heart was pounding in his ears now, and he was afraid of what he would see. He couldn't have let this happen. Not again. He had vowed to fix his mistake. Or to at least avoid it happening to as many people as he could.

“999 what's your emergency?” The voice on the other end spoke and Dan jumped a little at it, looking down at the phone before pushing the door fully open. Instantly his heart slowed, relieved, when he saw Phil's frame leaned against the bricks outlining the old chimney atop the flat rooftop of the building.

“False alarm, sorry,” Dan quickly spoke into the receiver and dropped the call, pocketing his phone.

Phil seemed unaware of Dan's presence, and instead was holding his hands out, palms up, as if he was waiting for something to fall into them. And Dan just watched, silenced by the unusual view, wondering it he had missed something in the contract about Phil. It was almost like he was attempting to summon the rain, or as if he was trying to contact another world.

A loud flap of wings made Dan jump, as several pigeons appeared, flying to land on different surfaces around the old flat rooftop. Some landed on Phil’s arms, and one even took to landing on the man's head only to be shaken off when Phil lightly moved his head side to side.

It wasn't even the appearance of the pigeons that awed Dan the most though.

It was the expression on Phil's face.

It felt open and soft, almost happy, though most of his laughter lines were faded and smoothed out, replaced with scowl ones. There was a soft bow of lips, when he seemingly quietly spoke to the pigeons, and it was like most of the tension had melted away from his shoulders, making his whole stance a little lighter.

It was a sight that calmed Dan's initial worries instantly.

Dan looked around, Phil still distracted with more pigeons appearing, and soon spotted a familiar box, though this time it wasn't covered in dust and instead was neatly tucked beneath an old chair that had been brought to the rooftop. The label of the sunflower seed brand was bright, if only a little faded from the drizzling rain of London. Dan pulled the box towards him and grabbed one of the small packs of seeds, tearing the corner open.

An idea sparked in his mind, and he poured some of the seeds onto his palm, slowly approaching Phil.

There was a nervous flutter of wings when Phil jumped, startled by Dan's appearance, and though pigeons settled back on his arms, the smile was gone and the tension reappeared in his limbs, “Why are you here?”

Instead of answering though, Dan carefully approached, hand extended to invite the birds. One pigeon finally landed on his arm, and he tried not to think about the diseases that pigeons were told to carry, and instead focused on the light pecks of the gluttonous pigeon as it gobbled up the seeds. Dan felt eyes on himself, and when he looked up, brown eyes met blue, and they remained silent for a while until Phil finally lowered his arms, grabbing some seeds from his pocket and spilling them on the ground. As if summoned, all birds swarmed around the food and the two men watched.

“What do you want?” Phil's voice was calm, and when Dan drew his eyes away from the flock of birds, he noted the way Phil was staring off into the distance; the location of the house being atop a small hill allowed the rooftop view to be more decent than Dan would have allowed himself to ever hope for. It was still the same glum city, just from a different angle, and yet it made all the difference. 

“I was worried,” Dan admitted, without expanding on why precisely he'd jumped to the worst possible conclusion right away.

“Tch, don't worry, they will pay you for the contracted time even if you quit early,” Though the words were still trying to be harsh, the tone had changed. It was a mixture of growing, tired defeat and that of somebody just fed up with lies.

“I don't do this just for money, you know?” Dan leaned against the edge of the roof ledge, allowing himself to look down at the street below before looking at Phil again, “There's so many better paying jobs out there. I was studying law for a while, did media after, and yet I'm here.”

“And yet you're here,” Phil repeated and though it was clear that he wanted to sneer, to push Dan further away, there was less resistance in the tone.

They remained in silence for a while until a loud growl, loud enough for Dan to pick up, erupted from Phil's stomach and Dan smiled. “I guess the takeaway will be cold already,” He eyed Phil who had given him a curious glance at the mention of the takeaway, “Our takeaway, yes,” Dan rolled his eyes, stretching a little before he turned towards the door.

“I'll go wash my hands and see about warming it up,” He announced, taking the first step into the house before pausing, glancing at Phil over his shoulder, “It would be nice if you joined me.”

The door fell shut behind him when he entered the house, a lot calmer than before.

It was while he was scrubbing his hands in the sink that he heard another set of steps walking into the house from the rooftop.

======

His phone screen lit up again, and Dan looked over, from the book that he had been trying to read, his eyes frequently flicking to his watch.

_Fine and alive._

The message was short, a bit too concise, and it didn't explaining anything.

Dan grit his teeth before heaving a heavy sigh and closing the book. When he had explained the rules, he was under the impression of Phil being heavily homebound like many that Dan had worked with. He never expected that Phil would start disappearing only to return late in the evenings, checking in every two hours about being fine until then.

Had Dan known differently, he would have laid out different rules, but it was bad timing to add to the pre-set ones two and a half weeks down the line without sounding controlling and losing any of the trust they had gingerly built.

Of course it was good that Phil went out, but it was the lack of information of his whereabouts that bothered Dan. At first he'd just arched his brow at the disappearance, using Phil's absence to sweeping the corners of the dusty flat after catching up on the emails. Then one day turned to two, then the two - to a week full of daily disappearances. Every time Dan tried to question it, Phil just brushed him off with excuses about simply taking some walks.

Dan had to admit that nothing indicated Phil using these absences to abuse substances again, but it was necessary to stay attentive.

So, as the door opened that evening, Dan was already standing in the hallway, watching as Phil kicked off his shoes and threw the jacket on the coat rack carelessly, stopping when he noticed Dan. “What? Missed me so much?” There was a bit of cheekiness in those words and mischief in his eyes and it was one of those moments Dan knew - Phil would pull through and would continue his life healthily. That didn't stop him from extending a plastic cup with a lid towards the other man, however.

“What am I supposed to...” Phil, looking at the cup with only partial confusion, asked.

“Routine test,” Dan offered Phil a stale smile when he saw the annoyance flash across the man's features.

“So much for building a trusting partnership here. Now you'll be testing me more than twice a week?” Phil snorted, pocketing the cup in his hoodie pocket.

“If you can't explain where you spend your days,” Dan started but Phil brushed past him, finishing the sentence in the manner Dan had wanted to avoid putting it.

“You need to make sure I'm not shooting up again, yeah yeah,” Dan pressed his lips into a thin line, watching as Phil began rummaging through the fridge; whatever playfulness that had been there had completely vanished.

“I made some dinner,” Dan pointed at the stove just as Phil emerged from the fridge with a jar of salsa and a piece of cold pizza, grabbing a pack of chips from one of the cupboards.

He only gave a brief look at the dinner, before Phil scrunched up his nose at the carefully crafted meal, “I don't like cheese,” He turned, the cupboard left wide open, and began his trek to his room.

“But the pizza?” Dan, confused, called after, eying the dinner before he looked at the empty pizza box on the counter.

“It's the only thing I can tolerate cheese on, it's about the sauce anyway,” The explanation was casual, words rolled in a manner that made think that Phil was also rolling his eyes at Dan though neither were in the field of others' vision anymore.

As Dan settled with a plate of dinner by the table later that night, a plan had formed in his head.

======

“Going on a walk again?” Dan asked from the living room sofa, where he was working on some emails, when he heard Phil walk downstairs and head straight for the front door.

“Yeah. I have your pisscup in the bathroom,” Phil pulled on his shoes and threw on the hood before pulling on the jacket in the same manner that he had been doing from day to day. Honestly, Dan was actually impressed by how he still had the dedication to go out every day for so long, considering that Dan could hear music playing and what sounded like frustrated swears from Phil's room whenever the man would be what seemed to be playing games very late into the night. It was impressive how the insomniac tendencies had not exhausted him.

It was increasingly more suspicious how the man continued on disappearing with such dedication.

It was this dedication that made Dan watch Phil leave. Waiting about ten seconds, to make sure that Phil wouldn't immediately return, Dan closed his laptop and jumped to his feet, quickly throwing on his shoes and grabbing his jacket as he carefully slipped out of the house.

He saw the retreating figure of the other man already at the corner of the house, and he followed, carefully, making sure that he stayed long enough of a distance away so that Phil wouldn't immediately notice him.

The air was thick and humid and Dan glanced at the brooding sky that was threatening rain again. He was really ought to get the raincoat out of the luggage soon. So far he had made due with the summer clothes, the early autumn weather a good excuse to do that. But he hadn't had the chance to yet switch his jackets and he hadn't been keeping an eye on the weather forecast.

They kept walking, Phil briskly, Dan - more carefully, weaving through the occasional crowds as they continued onwards, and the longer the time passed, the more Dan was wondering of where, if anywhere, this trip would end up at.

Several times Dan would have to hide around the corner when Phil would stop by a bus stop to check the schedule, never opting to getting on any of the buses in the end. Dan watched, carefully, hood pulled over his eyes as much as he could to mask himself.

It was clear that Phil was heading somewhere specific, but it seemed like there was uncertainty of how to get there.

Dan’s feet were beginning to ache as they continued walking for what felt like hours, the sky turning darker and darker though it was barely afternoon. Not once had Phil stopped to buy anything or talk to anyone, and as much as that relieved Dan, it also made him increasingly more curious about the odd trip.

At one point Phil had stopped at a train station, sitting on one of the benches for good twenty minutes, long enough that Dan had almost given up. Just as he had looked at his phone for time, noting the two messages that Phil had sent him in that time, Phil had gotten up again. At first Dan thought that Phil would board a train, deeming Dan's following done. Instead, Phil waded through the busy crowd, left the station and kept walking.

Not long after, it was a park that they had ended up at when the air filled with a thin drizzle of rain.

Phil took a seat on one of the benches, pulling out a small box of mints from the inner pocket and popping some into his mouth.

“So how long do you plan on following me, it's getting ridiculous,” Suddenly Phil spoke up and there was a tired kind of annoyance lining his words, spoken loud enough to startle a woman and her child as they were passing by, hiding beneath an umbrella as they rushed to avoid getting caught in the rain as the drizzling steadily became heavier.

Dan emerged from behind the tree, slow and a little bit embarrassed for having been caught. He knew that it showed in his gait, but his face remained unaffected, hair curling from the moisture in the air but dark eyes not avoiding looking directly at Phil. “How did you know I was following you?” He asked as he approached the man who was looking somewhere across the increasingly wetter park, small puddles beginning to mark their destinations on the pathway.

“You're not as slick and stealthy as you'd like to believe,” The answer came quietly, a darker note filling the rain-darkened air around the two men. “Isn't that some security breach?” Suddenly Dan was faced by an angry gaze, pale lips harsh to pronounce words and somehow Phil's features looked sharper than usually, “Or was my privacy signed away with that stupid contract as well?”

Dan could feel the hostility, the offense in the questions, and he could feel that timid foundation of trust begin to crumble.

“The contract doesn't affect your privacy,” Dan started with the factual, features softening a little as he continued “I was worried.”

“Oh aren't you the ever the concerned type? Is that your catchphrase now? Or is that your way of saying you're worried that I'm going around snooping for my next fix, trying to go back to where I just emerged from?” Phil stood up as he spoke, and his fingers had curled into fists, the anger evident. Dan leaned back a little, hands raised in front of himself a little as if to surrender.

“It's my job to make sure that you're fine,” Dan stepped half a step back when Phil took one forward, “And I know you don't feel like I'm actually worried about your well-being, I don't blame you for feeling that way. But I can't just let you disappear constantly like that because I can't do my job effectively if we don't communicate.”

He kept stepping back as Phil kept stepping closer, until his back hit the tree and suddenly Phil was far too close. There was angry fire in the man's eyes and his whole frame seemed to expand, to overwhelm, to want to burst.

For a moment Dan found himself recounting the basic self-defense moves that he had learned after a particularly nasty encounter with one short-term client that had been released from the rehabilitation too early, his addiction having been triggered by anger issues in the first place. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but sometimes people wanted to hurt Dan. He took a breath, trying to gather the courage for what was to come when suddenly a fist came to contact with the tree just to the left of Dan's head and his eyes grew wide.

There was anger, but as soon as it had appeared, it seemed to begin melting away. And though his fist was still against the tree, his tall frame crowding Dan against the bark, Phil’s head now hung low, his breath heavy and shoulders shaking a little.

Unsure how to proceed, Dan remained unmoving, just watching Phil as the man took a moment to compose himself again.

“Phil,” He spoke, tone calm and soft, trying to get the other man's attention, “You can talk to me. I'm not here to judge you, I'm here to help you work through this,” Slowly, he reached out to place his hand on the other man's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as he felt the tremor beneath his fingertips.

“Do you even know why?” Phil asked so quietly that Dan almost missed it.

“What do you mean?” Dan questioned, slowly lowering his hand and Phil retreated, plopping down onto the bench again, though it was now covered in rainwater. Dan followed, standing next to it as Phil leaned back, spreading and resting his arms on either side of him and to the back of the bench. And suddenly Phil laughed. It was a hollow sound, humourless, more the sound of a wounded dog than a joyous man.

It made Dan's heart hurt. So many times he'd heard about the painful, and it never got easier. Though he'd often tried to put on a tough act while growing up, Dan had the capability of empathising far too well.

They'd even told him that it might make this job harder, and yet he had braved on, determined to fulfil his promise.

“I loved him so bloody much,” Phil suddenly spoke, and his words were full of tears though it was only rainwater on his face as he leaned his head back, allowing the droplets to get caught in his dark lashes. “Thought we trusted each other with everything. I knew I did,” He paused and Dan took a moment to realise what Phil was saying. Slowly, Dan took a seat on the very edge of the bench, feeling as the rainwater greedily soaked the fabric of his jeans, but it was the least of his concerns right now.

“Then suddenly he's just gone, died of terminal cancer that he'd known of for years then, what a joke.” There was heavy bitterness in Phil's words and Dan frowned at the story, piecing it together gradually. “Didn't even consider for one goddamn minute telling me about it,” Phil fell silent for a moment, before another hollow laugh escaped him, “And I was an idiot, didn't realise what really was going on. General checkups my ass. He was clearly looking more and more ill and I trusted that everything was under control.”

The silence was filled with the noise of the city and the rain as it continued to pour down on the world, on the two men now completely alone in the little park. 

“Sometimes people don't tell you things because they love you so much,” Dan finally spoke up, almost as if afraid to disturb the silence that had fallen between them, “They want to live fully, not overshadowed by the diagnosis.”

Phil only grunted in answer, but Dan could tell that he was listening.

“He should have told you, still, it wasn't fair to you,” Dan paused when Phil began to laugh, the sound still haunting but there was a little more life in the small barks and Dan allowed it to last for as long as Phil felt it necessary.

“I would have helped, I would have done everything to make the last moments, no matter when they would have been, to be his best,” The laugh died down and Phil leaned forward, arms finding their rest in his lap now, as he observed the redness of his knuckles where they had bruised against the tree.

“I'm sure you already did,” Dan reached out, his hand finding Phil's shoulder again, trying to console the other man, to show his support. It was a heartbreaking reality that he'd come to learn of, but it was the exact thing that paved way towards getting things back on line. And it was painfully relatable, as he listened to the words spill from Phil's mouth.

“Thank you,” Phil murmured so quietly that Dan wasn't even sure that Phil wanted him to hear it, so he never answered, only squeezing his shoulder lightly again.

======

“Yes, Mister Lester,” Dan spoke, the phone propped between his shoulder and ear as he tried to fold the clean laundry while talking. It was a normal occurance, getting the calls from Phil's family to check up on the progress. It's just that perhaps a weekly report wasn't the approach that worked best.

“Yes, he's been attending the meetings. He hasn't shared yet but I believe that he will do it when it's right,” He scowled a little when the man on the other end failed to believe that it was as good as Dan was painting it. “Believe me, I've worked in the field for the last three years, I can tell that he will do it in due time, I trust him.” As if poked with a hot metal bar, the man began to rant on the other end about why Phil wasn't worth the trust Dan was expressing, but also hoping that it would mean more progress can be achieved quickly.

And for whatever reason, the man felt inclined to remind Dan that he was being paid for his services.

“I am doing my job,” Dan interrupted calmly “And you don't have to remind me that. We're taking it at the pace that's best for Phil and he is doing a lot better. A little faith wouldn't hurt,” Mister Lester fell silent on the other end of line, probably not expecting the calm but strict response that he'd received. There was a bit of mumbling and some gruff 'Yeahs' before the call concluded with a brief reminder that he would check in next week again.

Dan merely said his goodbyes and dropped the phone onto the bed as he walked into the closet to shelf the laundry, smoothing out the tops carefully even though he usually wouldn't bother too much. He blamed the focus on detail solely on the nagging annoyance at the back of his mind at what Phil's father had said.

There was a click of a door and Dan curiously peeked out of the closet and into the hallway, but saw nothing.

“Must have been my imagination,” He murmured quietly to himself and returned to stacking away the clean laundry. That done, he settled on his bed and pulled up his laptop, opening some of his usual entertainment, headphones on as he put on some music and began to browse.

His eyes were focused on the pictures on the screen, lips a small bow of a smile, but his mind was far away, still fighting with the annoyance and mulling over Phil's partial story for what felt like the millionth time. There was so much information in those few sentences, and Dan had been surprised by some of the bits though he knew it was not his place to be.

Suddenly, a figure appeared next to him and Dan instantly slapped his laptop closed and turned towards it, eyes wide, only to see a smirking Phil, one brow arched at Dan as his lips moved in speech, only to be muffled out to Dan by the headphones. He pulled them off instantly, leaving them around his neck just in time to hear the end of Phil's words “.... maybe consider closing the door,” Dan blushed at that as his mind filled in the blanks and he cleared his throat and turned his whole body towards Phil, headphones pulled off completely and laid on the bed.

“What is it Phil?”

“Thought I'd offer to play something with you; it gets boring playing single-player at times,” Phil eyed the laptop. There was laughter that lined his next words, and the skin around his eyes crinkled in amusement, “But I guess you were busy with something.”

At that Dan flushed a brighter colour. “I was looking at memes, you dolt,” He stopped, realising that his professionalism had slipped, but relaxed when he saw the amusement more prominently on Phil's features at that.

“Let's see who’s going to be calling whom names later,” Phil retorted and regarded Dan with the friendliest smile that Dan had ever received from the other man.

Unsure of what caused it but unwilling to miss out on the given chance, Dan got up to follow Phil. He had never been inside Phil's room, only having caught a small glimpse of it at an occasion, so when the door was left wide open for him to enter, Dan couldn't help but to look around curiously. The room was a lot busier than the rest of the flat and Dan was rather impressed by the collection of toys and geeky old posters spread across the room. An older, beat up console was positioned neatly next to an old TV across from the unmade bed. There was a table with papers strewn across it, and shelves of books that looked well-loved by the creased backs dissimilar the ones downstairs.

“Sit wherever, just close the door,” Phil instructed as he quickly threw the blanket over the bed to make it look less messy. Dan obeyed, letting the door click closed and tentatively he took a seat at the foot of the bed as it was the only place to sit aside from the chair by the table, which was now being tucked in by Phil.

“Hope you're familiar with classics,” Phil handed him a bit faded joystick before plopping on the bed too and starting up the game load screen.

“I'll have you know that I've been an avid gamer since I could hold a controller,” Dan grinned at Phil and eyed the selection on the screen, picking his character as Phil proceeded to do the same.

There was relative silence when they began to play, the two men a little stiff around each other still but it began to melt away as they got more into the game.

“Come on, let me hit you!” Phil complained as Dan's character dodged out of the way of the attack only to kick Phil's in response.

“I didn't come here to play easy on you,” Dan laughed and pressed down on the buttons as Phil began tilting his remote more and more until the game ended and Dan won, cheering happily all whilst Phil bit into the controller in annoyance.

“Not fair, I needed to warm up, I call for a rematch!” Phil finally looked at Dan and he could see how the dark pupils had dilated, largely masking out the blue of the irises.

Though Dan agreed for another game, his thoughts were left with that over the top expression and the signs he was mostly used to seeing in only one case in his customers. He tried to brush the thought off though, focusing on the game where Phil was getting his sweet revenge quite easily, only to shamelessly cheer when he won, “Told you I just had to warm up!”

Dan laughed at that and his cheeks hurt a little from the wideness of the smile that had taken residence on his features in a manner that he had forgotten.

It was a fun evening, generally relaxed to a point where Dan could imagine that in another life the two would have probably made good friends. Their sense of humour seemed to be one, and they had a similar approach to gaming and though Phil seemed to have a bit more childish attitude towards losing, it aligned with Dan's saltiness.

Dan brushed his fringe aside, rubbing at his eyes where moisture from laughter had gathered whilst Phil laid back into his bed, a grin on his features as he stretched, “Honestly, how the hell did you win that? That road is nearly impossible to win without dying at least a gazillion times,” Dan laughed, regarding Phil with a hint of amazement all whilst Phil stuck a tongue out at him in response.

“Practice and natural talent.”

Slowly the initial hype was lulled and the two of them remained in silence, just enjoying the peace after the racing of hearts in excitement over the games played. Phil was humming to himself calmly and it really felt like they were just two friends hanging out rather than the reality of their situation.

“Practiced a lot with your brother?” Without much thought to it, and only casual conversation in mind, Dan questioned, eyes drawn to the variety of books in the shelves so he didn't immediately notice the way Phil fell silent, how his face darkened and how the ease disappeared from his limbs.

When Dan looked over, the silence finally registering, what he saw was Phil laying on the bed, face hardened and eyes glaring holes into the tall ceiling. Though the room was warm, this look made a slight shiver run down Dan's back.

“Sorry, if you don't--” He tried to apologise, only for Phil to interrupt, all the joy gone from his tone as if it was never there.

“I'm tired, I'd like you to leave.”

“Phil, I'm sorr--”

“Please leave my room.”

“Phi--”

“And close the door after you.”

With that, Phil turned to his side, back to Dan, and the conversation was over.

For a moment Dan looked at the back of Phil's head, and he felt the frown cutting into his cheeks painfully after all the laughter. And there was a sinking feeling in his chest. They had had so much fun that for a while Dan had forgotten that it was a work contract binding them together. They weren't friends who had grown up together, or experienced different stages of life side by side. They were strangers still, succumbing to the circumstances and trying to make the best of it.

It hurt.

“I'm sorry,” Dan muttered, slipping off the bed and walking out of the room. The door clicked softly after he took one last glance at the other man's back and grabbed the handle to pull it closed.

======

It took weeks before their angry bickering settled a little again, with Phil trying to push Dan away and Dan insistently trying to find the best ways to try harder. They went to meetings and though Phil didn't share his story still, it was a victory on Dan's end that there were at least no more embarrassing moments.

Even so, there was coldness coming as a response from Phil whenever Dan as much as tried to initiate more conversation than the basics. Dan would ask about meals, and Phil would just brush him off. Dan would request the regular tests, Phil would find it a reason to go off on a rant about controlling again. A mere good morning was met with either a glare over a steaming cup of coffee or was absolutely ignored.

It was tiring.

In time, thankfully, it warmed up, if only a little. Dan would often find Phil on the roof with the pigeons, sometimes reading, other times just gazing at the city below. It was serene and the hostility had died down; instead of shooing Dan away or leaving, Phil just continued on with his activity and even responded to Dan's words with a variety of sounds.

There was mostly peace and thoughtfulness on those days, and Dan saw the way cracks appeared in Phil's defensiveness, almost as if he yearned for interaction and it was something within himself that was standing in the way. So Dan tried to reach out, just enough to show support but not be too invasive.

Slowly, slowly it seemed to improve and the life became calmer between the two men again.

A low hum in his throat, he traipsed down the wooden stairs, an empty cup in his hands from which he'd had tea last night. Just as he was passing by the front door, there was rustling and he stopped, watching as several envelopes and colourful pamphlets were pushed through the mail slot in the door, falling in a messy pile on the floor. He quickly collected them, pushing the pamphlets under his arm as he began sorting through the letters. Most were addressed for Phil, but one made Dan pause and the humming dried up in his throat as he stared down at the black ink spelling out his name.

He knew that handwriting and it seeded instant dread into his core.

He never thought that they would actually find him again. He knew that it was probably possible for him to file out a restraining order, but he always just hoped that they would finally move on and stop.

He didn't need the reminders of what had happened.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he quickly folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket just in time to grab the mug he'd set aside. Dan turned to face Phil as the other man, hair a ruffled mess and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, climbed down the stairs.

“Good morning,” Dan tried to address him as friendly as always but the dryness in his throat made his words sound a lot less energetic. Grateful that pre-coffee Phil didn't seem to care much about the world at all, he watched as the other man merely kept making his way to the kitchen, a low grunt the only answer to Dan's greeting.

The mail dropped on the kitchen table, Dan began bustling around the kitchen in a routined pattern, washing the cup before starting on the food.

It was the letter in his pocket that was on his mind though, and the cup slipped from his hands, and he barely caught it before it could smash against the edge of the sink. A quiet swear was an automatic response to that, and he rinsed the cup, setting it aside right away to avoid any other potential disasters.

What did they want from him now? Last it had been to admit that it had been his fault. There were some threats too, but he'd set it aside as grief one too many times. And to seek him out to obscure locations….

“You're burning the food,” A mildly annoyed voice drew him out of his thoughts and Dan quickly pulled the pan off the stove where the eggs were starting to get far too crispy around the edges. Dan looked down at the food for a moment, before heaving a sigh and grabbing a plate to put it on.

“Sorry,” Dan offered a small apologetic smile to Phil, though he felt it never reached his eyes. Phil just looked at him for a moment over the rim of his cup, before shrugging and grabbing some breakfast too, the cupboards left wide open. Usually Dan would have reminded him to close them (even though Phil would usually ignore him), but the curiosity and fear over the contents of the envelope were too much. He picked at his breakfast, but every bite tasted wrong and his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“You're awfully quiet,” It was a statement and nothing indicated that it was an invitation to talk more, and for once Dan took to that absence of curiosity. The plate of food pushed aside, he stood from his seat.

“I'll clean up later, I think I need to sleep a bit more,” And without giving Phil the chance to even make the decision on whether or not to answer, he left the kitchen. Every step felt heavier than the previous, and he found himself standing at the top of the stairs, gripping the railing so hard his muscles shook a little. He felt the folded paper against his thigh through the fabric of his sweatpants and he found himself unsure - did he want to open it or should he simply tear it to little pieces unopened so he wouldn't have to face those memories again?

_Laughter filled the room as the smoke slowly drifted towards the ceiling from the lit cigarette in the other brunette's hand._

_“Can you pass me another, Howell?” Alec motioned at the line of beer bottles that they had arranged unwittingly closer to Dan than in between the two, and Dan groaned, pushing himself up from the sofa to grab a bottle clumsily, nearly slipping over the armrest as he did so._

_“I swear you put them there on purpose just to boss me around,” He whined a little as he handed over the bottle, slumping back onto the sofa. Reaching out, he nursed his still half-full bottle of beer close to his chest._

_“And what if I did?” Alec nudged Dan with his foot a little, amused, only for Dan to kick back lightly, and through his words he was laughing a slurred drunk laugh._

_“You're an asshole.”_

_“A damn handsome one at least,” Alec grinned, taking another drag from the cigarette and Dan watched through half-lidded eyes as his best friend cracked open the new bottle, shamelessly chugging a good third of it before leaning his head back against the other armrest with a satisfied sigh._

_“Look out or it won't last long like this,” Dan mocked but the words were sleepy on his lips and he sipped at the bottleneck to try and clear the drowsiness a little._

_“Honestly, who cares? Got to live fast and full!” As if to prove the point he took another long drag from the cigarette and the embers lit up for a moment, mesmerizing, though the air tasted like ash from it._

_“Shit, I need to wee,” Dan squirmed, unwilling to rise from his spot, only to do so when prodded by Alec's foot poking against the back of his thigh. “Don't you touch my drink while I'm off, I still remember the last time,” Swaying a little, Dan motioned at the ashtray, the memory of mouthful of ash still making him shudder, “Or I swear I'll kick you off the balcony.”_

_That was met with a mere laughter and somewhere in the back of his mind Dan already knew that he'd be getting a fresh drink, just in case, anyways._

_“Mm, it's breezy,” He muttered when he returned, the balcony door cracked open and the summer night wind playing in the curtains lightly._

_“It was stuffy,” Alec shrugged while finally extinguishing the cigarette, rubbing the butt of it against the ashtray slowly, almost thoughtfully._

_With the fresh air though, the thoughts of getting any more drinks had completely washed out of Dan's mind and he plopped onto the sofa face-first, taking up more than the half he'd been occupying most of the night, and he nuzzled slightly against Alec's thigh, their closeness formed through long years._

_“Hey Dan,” Alec spoke up and there was no hint of the earlier laughter left, instead there was just some neutrality that otherwise would've made Dan worried, but his inebriated mind couldn't follow, as his eyelids were becoming too heavy to open. And the spinning inside his skull was too much. So all he did was hum, letting Alec know that he was listening._

_“You're like a brother to me, remember that,” Dan heard between the darkness already taking up his consciousness. He shifted, nuzzling closer to the other man, and though he wanted to speak, his body and mind were too far apart for the thoughts to ever touch his lips._

_His dreams where whispers and rustling, the clinking of bottles and knocking._

_Knock._

_Knock._

_BANG._

_He jumped, startled awake and disorientated though there was light still on around him and he blinked, drunkenly and bleary as the banging on the door continued and slowly voices began to register too. There was something amiss but he just made his way to the front door, tripping over his own feet and steadying himself against the walls clumsily._

_He couldn't remember much, and he never could tell was it because of the lack of soberness or because of the cold harsh reality that shocked him. All he knew was that there was police, there were people, neighbours? There were words, far too many, and what they spelled out made little to no sense._

_He just wanted to go back to sleep, so he could wake up._

_Because it was impossible to accept it as a reality that Alec had jumped off the balcony and was no more._

Fingers trembled as he tore the letter open, his heart racing in fear of what the single piece of paper would contain. The last time had been hard, but he'd managed to bury the anxiety in the new contract that he was meeting to sign. A move to a new place. A different kind of person to work with. A chance to fix some of the wrong in the world to even out his mistakes in the past if only by a little bit.

Now he was in the middle of it all, and though he'd felt good about the progress, it was worries that instantly plagued his mind, like bats scared and escaping the dark cave they had been asleep in.

Had he made any difference?

Phil was pushing back every time Dan tried to help with progress, and the routine tests didn't help it either. Dan saw the way there was very little light behind the occasional smiles he would get from the other man, nothing like what he'd seen when they had played the games together. When asked about potential interests and searching for a job, there were only shrugs and dry answers.

Nothing Dan did seemed to get through to Phil though conversations had found a bit more ease.

Relax. He reminded himself and took a deep breath, finally pulling out and unfolding the letter.

Progress took time.

_Daniel Howell,_

_We have written you numerous times asking politely to admit to what you did, but the lack of any response has left us no choice but to look into involving the law again. You have been avoiding answering calls, emails and have changed your address numerous times in the past years, which can be assumed as avoidance and clearly makes a statement for your guilt. It's about time you did it yourself so this is the last warning that you will get._

_Come forward and admit your part in killing our precious boy Alec, so we can finally have the justice for him that he deserves._

_And God help you - to getting the punishment you deserve for it, too._

_We have attached the address where we expect you to show up within ten days time or we will be forced to take more drastic measures._

_He saw you as a close friend, we accepted you as family, and you took it all for granted to fulfil whatever disgusting inclinations you had. You're a disgusting being and should be grateful that we have given you so many chances to do the right thing on your own._

_This is the last warning._

At the bottom there was an address. Dan stared at it, but his vision was blurry and he didn't even realise that his lip was quivering until he sucked in a breath and it got partially caught in his throat. From there on it was a downward spiral and before long the tears were streaming down his cheeks uncontrollably as he cradled his head, the letter on the floor by his feet. His breaths were muffled, as he pressed his face against his knees.

In all of this, he knew that he had to stay strong, and he couldn't let Phil see the cracks.

======

There was a tentative knock on Dan's door as he was shoving his wallet into his pocket and he looked up, confused by the gentleness and the politeness of that knock. It wasn't often, but when Phil had turned to Dan, the other man had a lot brasher entrance; often he also managed to scare the living shit out of Dan because of that, too.

“Come in?” He invited, the voice carrying more question marks in it than ever, the occasion too unusual to hide the surprise.

“Hey, uh,” Phil appeared in the doorway, looking at anything but Dan, almost fooling Dan into believing that he was actually interested in Dan's interior design choices in the room. There was a slight fumbling, as his fingers awkwardly pulled at the hem of his t-shirt before they were pocketed.

Dan furrowed his brows. The fidgeting, the avoiding of gaze, the unexpected politeness were like red flags and instantly his stance became stiffer, the slight slouch eliminated and hands by his sides, prepared to hear what trouble or help Phil had come to talk about.

“So there's the meeting, yeah?” The question was like a bizarre small talk.

Dan cocked his head a little, brow arched, “Nothing has changed in the last ten minutes since I told you we're going, yes.” Though a statement, his words came out more as a question, prompting Phil to go on and Dan relaxed his posture a little, leaning his weight on one leg as Phil brought his shoulders up, thoughtfully before finally looking at Dan.

“Yeah, I think I can go-- should go?-- alone today,” Blue eyes captured brown and Dan had to take a moment to let the words sink in a little before he could muster up an answer, a little teenage awkwardness creeping into it, though he'd thought that he had grown out of it already.

“I-- uh-- wh-- No, I'm going with you,” He finally managed out. “I know you don't like me there but--”

“No, no, it's not that,” Phil interrupted and Dan gave him a questioning look, so the older man shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking down at his feet where mismatched sock clad feet were interchangeably drawing patterns on the floor.

“What is it then?” Dan felt his own feet take him forward, if only a little bit.

Phil looked up again and there was a crooked smile that was full of amusement and a bit of pity, and Dan found himself wishing it wasn't as rare as it was. It was a genuine feeling, not sarcastic nor sneering. It was full of friendliness and there was even a hint of care in that little change of expression. Even with the words that accompanied it. “Frankly, you look like shit, and I feel like you need to get some rest. Drink some tea or something, you've been awfully out of it even for yourself.”

Though he wanted to question what Phil meant with his last words, what Dan found himself saying was, “Thank you.” There was a bit of relief that found its way into the exhale, “I think I've caught some kind of bug,” The lies left his lips just as easily as truth usually did, and though he felt a bit of guilt for letting Phil so easily push him away for a day, he wanted to believe it was genuine.

After all, he hadn't been sleeping well for days and his appetite had been worse, as every bite felt too big to swallow when his idle thoughts returned to the letter. Initially he had wanted to send some reply, but as he sat down with a piece of paper and pen he found his mind blank; what was left there to say? He had explained what had happened that night the best he could remember, repeatedly, yet they never listened. There was no way that he was going to surrender to them and he knew that if he would appear at the address, they would take it as his confession. He couldn't trust that face-to-face talking would be any more successful than their remote correspondence. At one point he had even considered just burning the letter, but he couldn't find it in himself to do it.

Now it remained in the far end of his sock drawer, hidden like his shame.

“Yeah well, don't give it to me,” Phil said, stepping a little back but the smile remained so unfairly pleasant and genuine that Dan could barely keep himself from admitting all the truth in an instant.

“Let me know when you get there and again on the way home,” Finally letting himself sit down on the bed, Dan began to recite and saw Phil roll his eyes at that.

“Yeah I know, it's the same cat in a different bag.”

Dan laughed at that, a small laugh but true. There was always something endearing about Phil's phrasing and the relief that coursed through Dan's veins amplified the usual amusement. 

“Go sleep, you're delirious.”

“I must be if you're so nice.”

“Touche.”

There was a silent moment, the two of them kind of smiling at one another. For a moment it felt like the world was fine and there was some hope left for redemption. It put the knot in Dan's stomach to rest, if only a little bit.

“Get going or you'll miss the tube,” Dan shooed the other man when Phil continued to stand in the doorway, almost as if there was something else he wanted to say.

“Make sure to see a doctor if you're feeling off,” Phil finally spoke, turning a bit as if to leave only to add before he finally turned his back to Dan, the voice faltering a little as he spoke, “And let me know if you need anything.” With that, he traipsed off, leaving Dan looking after at the retreating form until he disappeared in the stairway.

He could see the cracks in the other man's defensiveness, and Phil's story returned to Dan slowly. There was worry, and some kind of guilt that Dan felt familiar, hidden behind Phil's actions and as it dawned upon Dan, he bit down on his lip tightly, until the taste of iron filled his mouth.

He was there to help, but all it seemed like he was doing was bringing up Phil's past in the wrong ways.

======

The sound of the buzzing drew Dan out of his fitful sleep and blearily he looked around, grasping around the messy blanket until he found his phone and pulled it up to his face. The digits were blurry and he blinked a few times before he could finally make them out but that didn't serve as any explanation as the number was unknown.

“Daniel Howell,” He muttered as coherently as he could while pressing the phone against his ear and his other cheek against the pillow more, the tiredness still ever the present part in his life for the past days.

“Hello,” The voice on the other side was familiar and even through the bleariness of the half-awake state Dan could piece together that the situation was off. Why would Phil call him? And when he called, why would it be from an unknown number?

“Phil?” Finally awake enough to force himself to sit up, Dan rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the time in the old wall clock he'd found some batteries for. Phil had been gone for maybe an hour and a half, so it wasn't like it was sudden substitution for the usual messages either. Something had to be wrong.

“Phil, what's wrong?” The sudden worry-caused adrenaline pumped into his heart and the poor attempts of sleep washed out of Dan's mind almost instantly and he gripped the phone to his ear while untangling his feet from the blanket. Automatically his hands reached for the keys and wallet, prepared to leave and every second that Phil didn't answer poured more concern into Dan's bones.

“So, don't be mad,” There was even more hesitation and about a thousand different scenarios ran through Dan's mind, most of which were shameful but necessary thoughts in his line of work, unfortunately. His lips formed a thin line and he hummed to tell Phil to keep going.

“I'm at the police station, and they told me to call someone who can vouch for me.”

Not expecting this, Dan actually stopped in his tracks walking towards the door.

“What happened?” He managed out though there was a part of him that warmed up a bit with the trust expressed from Phil before he realised that there was a possibility that aside from his parents, Dan was the only person that Phil could call.

“I can't explain that now, they want me off the phone, so just, yeah,” There was a small pause until a voice in the background spoke and Phil quickly added, “The police station a block from the group meetings,” And before Dan could answer the line went dead.

Fuelled by the initial panic and the mixture of worry and rising anger, Dan left the house and caught the tube almost automatically. It wasn't until he stepped out of the underground some ways from his current home that he realised that he was still wearing the crumpled up shirt that he had been sleeping in and that his hair was a mess. Quickly he ran his hand through the messy curls to make himself look more presentable before he pushed the police station doors open, trying not to think about what he was about to face.

Had they caught Phil trying to buy something? Dan liked to think that that wasn't the case, but it was from his experience that he found it hard to imagine any other scenario. The only reason why he didn't think that Phil had actually used had been the perfect clearness of the voice and though that wasn't the best indication, he liked to hope for the best.

“Hello, I was called to collect Phil Lester,” He turned to the woman who looked like she could direct him and she nodded.

“You'll have to sign here,” She pointed at a document and Dan looked at the basic information on the form, “And here,” Though he held the pen, Dan didn't put it on the paper and instead looked up at the woman.

“What was he arrested for?” He was afraid of the answer. Though it was his work, it was both professionally and humanely that he had to know the reason. He had to know where the trust lied and where had he gone wrong in fulfilling his duties.

And he was a little hurt by how the moment of sweet genuineness had turned sour so easily.

“Disturbance of public peace,” Was all the answer he was given and when he tried to prompt for more information, he was waved off with a 'You'll see', so, begrudgingly he scrawled his signature on the papers only for the woman to disappear further into the station.

The wait was short but felt endless, and Dan paced from side to side in the small hallway, arms crossed over his chest and fingers tapping against the other arm restlessly. As soon as Phil emerged, pulling away from the touch of the police officer, Dan dropped his arms by his sides, forehead wrinkled as his brows were furrowed.

Then he noticed the redness and the slight swelling when Phil looked up, his lower lip bulging a little where it had been split.

“Thank you,” Dan nodded at the police officer before motioning for Phil to follow, who just looked down at his feet, following silently as if ashamed. As they stepped out in the street though, that timidness was instantly gone and when Dan turned to face Phil, he saw a relatively proud person instead of an ashamed one.

“What in the world happened?” Dan asked, the voice controlled but he felt the tremor of poor sleep and stress building up and he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure well.

“I got in a fight, that's what,” Now it was Phil whose arms were crossed and the two man stood on the sidewalk, glaring slightly at one another.

“Why?” Dan demanded when Phil wouldn't elaborate and Dan's eyes were drawn to the patches of skin that were starting to darken, bruises appearing on the pale skin. He wanted to find ice to apply to them, but the nagging discontent and Phil's stubbornness kept him glued to the spot.

“Because I bloody decided to take up your suggestion to talk, okay?!” There was a dark quality about Phil's voice when he spoke, and Dan took a step back without realising it, taken aback by both, the tone and the confession. Yet it didn't explain the presence of the skin discolouration and the arrest. There had to be more to it and Dan pressed on, willing himself to move closer again.

“How does that have anything to do with getting into physical fights?”

“Well maybe you haven't noticed, but the world is not a walk in a park and not everything is seen in whatever holy light you're seeing it,” Phil was nearly hissing through his teeth as he pulled on his hood, covering his face in more shadows effectively, only achieving making himself look shadier than if he'd walked off with the darkening bruises out on the display.

Something in Dan was ticked off more by this. “I am NOT seeing anything in a 'holy light' or any crap like that. I've worked in this field for years and I know things can go to absolute shit.” He felt his temperature rise uncomfortably as the words spilled from his mouth lowly and threateningly.

Dan knew he was overstepping a line, he understood that he was breaking so many rules of his field, but it was like he was possessed and couldn't stop the flames burning up inside. He just inched closer to the hooded man and when he was close enough, he reached out, jabbing a finger at Phil's chest and the other man jumped a little at it, “Things are not magically fixed just because you finally let people help. It. Takes. Time.” Every sentence was accompanied with an angry poke at Phil's chest, “You can't expect for sugarcoated understanding. You need to fight through the difficulties and people disagreeing in a rational way. You need to remember how to coexist without letting yourself get too defensive about the slightest disagreement.”

Dan's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, but finally he stepped aside. He looked Phil in the shadow-hidden face, “That 'party girl' you made fun of back then? She's closer to a normal life than you right now.”

Phil just stood there silently, and though his eyes were slightly widened, there was little to no emotion in his face.

The lack of answer allowed for the anger to settle a little bit in Dan's chest, and he felt the tiredness return to his bones, slowly but powerfully. His heartbeat slowed down to a steady rhythm too quickly and he felt the drowsiness begin to take over.

“I'll see you at home,” He finally announced after they stood there in silence for what felt like hours though it was mere minutes. Back turned, he began his way off, and though he could feel the eyes boring into the back of his head, he never looked back.

======

Dan was curled on the sofa in the living room with a book when the front door opened next. Though his eyes were focused on the pages, the words didn't make much sense. Still, he stubbornly continued staring at them, not really acknowledging Phil's arrival though he could feel the other man's eyes on him.

He just turned the page, even if he had no idea what had happened in the previous one.

Phil walked across the room and into the kitchen, and Dan could hear the rustling and the fridge door opening and closing before Phil emerged again, a pack of frozen peas pressed again his left cheek. It was too late to reduce the size of the bruise, but it was good enough to soothe the feeling and Dan bit the inside of his cheek to not say a word.

He only looked up from the book briefly when Phil sat down on the sofa, where Dan's long legs hadn't managed to occupy the space.

“I'm sorry,” After a moment of silence that was buzzing with awkwardness, Phil finally said. To that, Dan merely grunted and turned another page, having fully given up on reading but not yet prepared to let Phil off the hook for what had happened.

“I just…. There are things that I'm still processing and I thought it was alright to try and talk about them, but then he just….. Started making faces and mocking everything I said,” Phil spoke slowly and scrunched up his face, and Dan couldn't tell it if it was because of the pain or because of the memories, “I know it's hypocritical for me to react that way after what I did, but...” He trailed off and Dan finally lowered the book to his lap, closing the cover without bothering to mark where he'd left off.

“It's...” It was without a doubt that Phil was struggling with expressing what he wanted to say, from the way he would trail off and how his voice seemed raspier as if his throat was dry. “They have never liked it and are still using it as an excuse for what happened.”

Slowly, Dan pulled his legs closer, until he was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, partially facing Phil. He didn't say a word, allowing Phil to express himself, but finally he offered his genuine undivided attention.

“And you could tell that all he cared to know was that I'm what he so eloquently called - a fag.”

Dan scowled at that.

“I know there are those who still don't accept it, I get it,” Phil spoke, brows furrowed and eyes absently staring across the room, but his fingers curled into the thawing wet bag of peas in annoyance, “But you would think there would be a different focus in these meetings. Guess not-- argh,” Phil hissed, removing the bag of peas before reapplying it.

Dan sighed, reaching out to take the wet bag from Phil's hands “Let me have a look at it.”

Without a single protest, Phil let the bag to be pried out of his hands, and curiously he looked over at Dan who had leaned in close. Dan carefully touched Phil's jaw to turn his face, eying the blood still on Phil's lip and the way that the bruises seemed to be getting angrier by seconds. There was warmth between the two but it was soon gone again when Dan pulled away to get up from the sofa, “You've really outdone yourself here. I'll find something to clean it with. Wait here.”

As Dan rummaged through the cupboard to find some antiseptic, his mind was piecing together the story once more. It was a little frustrating, not knowing it in whole, but it was like the frustration was a kind of a game where every little solved piece was a small victory. It made his chest warm, and though his heart ached at the other man's experiences, Dan found himself happy that he was getting through to it, if only a little bit.

It made him feel like he was actually doing some good and the the contents of that letter were lying to him and he wasn't a bad person.

He was making a change. Together.

When he returned, Phil was obediently sitting on the sofa still, his hands on his lap and as soon as Dan entered the room, he looked up, the blue of his irises bright and tentatively curious. He seemed almost childlike until Dan looked just a little lower where the dark stubble was dusting the man's cheeks and chin.

“Come on, you managed to not complain about it earlier,” Dan spoke, with a certain tease in his voice when he pressed the cloth with antiseptic onto the particularly dark bruise on Phil's cheekbone and Phil hissed in response. “How you didn't break your glasses is beyond me,” He continued on and glanced over to the dark frames hooked behind the hem of Phil's shirt.

“I took them off,” Phil answered and Dan paused, pulling his hand back.

“What, did you actually take them off like some weird Clark Kent ready to kick ass?” With disbelief, Dan questioned and laughed when Phil pouted a bit at that.

“At least I don't try to convince people I'm someone else through just the use of eyewear.”

To that Dan just rolled his eyes and pressed the cloth back against the bruise.

“Please avoid getting into anymore fights,” The antiseptic set aside, Dan handed a towel-wrapped ice cubes to Phil.

“I can't promise that,” Phil pressed the cool towel against his cheek, but when Dan gave him a stern look, he offered a small grin in return, “But I can promise to try.”

“You better,” Dan retorted, relaxing a little, “Or else I'll have to leave you in the holding cell until you really think through your actions.”

To that, Phil laughed, though there was a slight waver in the sound, “Wouldn't work, they've tried.” Before Dan could interject and question about what Phil had said, Phil put his hand on Dan's shoulder, squeezing it lightly, and regarded Dan with another of his more genuine smiles “Thanks for, you know,” Phil moved his head side to side, hands busy.

“Yeah well, it's my job,” Dan shrugged slightly and the hand fell from his shoulder, leaving space for cold to instantly take over the patch of covered skin. 

When their eyes met again, it was clear that Phil knew the extent of Dan's job and Dan knew that Phil understood why Dan went a step further than his contract had described.

“I promise I'm trying.”

“I believe you.”

======

His appetite returned slowly, as the days ticked away one by one.

Five.

Seven.

Ten.

He'd honestly expected them to barge in on the eleventh, but as the sun set so did his worries.

Perhaps it had all been a bluff, a ploy to make him submit to something that they knew he wasn't responsible for. They still needed a scapegoat to blame and perhaps finally they were starting to see that he wouldn't cave in and let them win.

Perhaps five years had finally exhausted them as much as they had exhausted him.

So with every day that passed by the initial due date, Dan relaxed. Sleep returned to him and food didn't get stuck in his throat anymore. Life seemed to settle peacefully.

And Phil seemed to try and listen more.

“It's too bloody cold outside,” Dan complained while pulling the scarf up and over his mouth before sticking his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“It could be worse,” Phil meanwhile seemed to be an endless ball of warmth, huddled in his old coat, “It could be raining.”

To that Dan kicked towards Phil, “Don't jinx it. The last thing I need is to get soaked too. Bloody hell this isn't Manchester, you'd think it would be warmer in November down south.”

Phil just laughed at that and briefly patted Dan's shoulder before merrily continuing on, and honestly Dan couldn't understand where all that optimism came from. It was suspicious. “You sure that you had only one cup of coffee today?”

“Of course!” Phil assured with a curious glance over to Dan and he could feel how the other man was trying not to see the other possible implications in the simple question, “I guess I'm just in a good mood today.”

“While going to a meeting?” Dan asked, in disbelief, his brow arched. Even through the tens of meetings they had attended together, Phil never seemed to get any more excited about the idea of going to one. He'd spoken up a couple of times, more to reassure somebody else or encourage, but never quite to tell his own backstory. And it was fine. It was an improvement in itself, but it wasn’t enough for Dan to believe the innocence so easily just yet.

Phil just nodded merrily and though Dan tried to take it as that, the slight crease in his forehead seemed to give away his real worries.

There was a short silence between them, the unsaid in the air until Phil shrugged, ‘’I’ll do an extra cup test, so you can rest assured.’’ It was said casually, but it held a degree of awkwardness between them still. Though the two seemingly had formed a better understanding, a better communication, Dan had to be hyper-aware of these moods, if his previous job experience had taught him anything.

‘’I guess I just had too much of the leftover candy,’’ Phil finally admitted and the awkwardness cleared a little, and Phil laughed a little.

To that Dan laughed too; though Halloween wasn't very commonly celebrated holiday in the UK, there was always a certain feeling to the day, and the season leading up to it. And it hadn't taken Dan too long to notice that Phil seemed to rejoice around the time, too. He'd even initiated more conversations with Dan up to the point where Dan would accidentally nod off in the middle of the night listening to him talk about an idea for a halloween story that he once wanted to make into a movie.

It had turned into a lot of apologising and admitting that the story had a few loopholes and would, indeed, turn into a six hour movie if Phil ever got around to making it.

“You seem to be in a good mood too,” Phil commented to lighten up the mood even more and Dan turned to give him a disbelieving stare only to trip over his own feet instead. He expected the impact with the ground, a small squeak escaping his lips, but instead he felt an awkward pull at his arm and waist that kept him upright.

“Woah there, don't make me take my words back,” Phil's face was scrunched up with tiny laughter lines and Dan felt the redness of embarrassment dust his cheeks as he wrapped his fingers around Phil's arm in an attempt to steady himself properly. It was a strange feeling to be touching another person casually again, and Dan felt hyperaware of every little bit of what made a real person every time Phil touched him or Dan - Phil.

“Shut up,” Dan retorted, adjusting his scarf over his face, pulling at it in hopes that it would hide the heat in his cheeks, probably not much different from the frost beforehand.

Phil just regarded him with a smile, “Hey, don't think I haven't noticed that you're as clumsy as me.”

Dan just buried his nose further into his scarf at that.

======

Dan slapped his forehead.

He hadn't intended to do it so rapidly, but when Phil jumped and stared at him wide-eyed and questioning, Dan rubbed at it lightly to soothe the sting, “Sorry.”

“What was that about?” Phil asked once the initial shock seemed to disappear from his face.

“I forgot to get the milk.”

“And that's a good reason to give yourself a concussion?”

Dan just shoved at Phil and the other man laughed though it sounded less energetic than it had before the meeting. As if the stories were stewing in Phil's mind though the man tried to hide it.

There had been one man who seemed to have had a similar experience to Phil, from what Dan could piece together. He'd been sober for good two years and had explained how he had tried to move on with his life post-rehabilitation. Phil, who had been so present before the meeting, suddenly seemed to have become so distant again, but Dan couldn't tell if it was the walls he was putting up of was it inner contemplation.

Either the case, Dan found it necessary to give Phil the opportunity to have his time alone for a while.

“I'll see you soon,” Dan made his way down the stairs again with a brief wave at the other man who looked after him until Dan turned the corner.

The London streets were frosty, uncharacteristically so, and Dan was cold. He rubbed his hands together, trying to keep some warmth in the freezing limbs, when a buzzing in his pocket caught his attention.

Curiously, he reached for the phone only to see Phil's name appear on the screen. With a quick swipe, he picked up, stuffing his free hand in the pocket meanwhile, “I've been gone for five minutes tops, you don't have to check in yet,” He humoured a little, more used to Phil actually calling him, and not as concerned about it anymore.

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end and Dan slowed down a little, “Phil?”

There was a bit of rustle on the other end, “I forgot to ask if you can grab me some granola bars.”

“Yeah, sure, anything else?” Dan relaxed a little and it felt like a second too long before answered, though the voice sounded alright.

“No, that's it.” Another pause and Dan bit at the inside of his lip trying to not let the worries begin to build up, “Thanks, I'll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah, I'll see you.”

The click on the other end felt too loud and the line went dead.

Dan stared down at the darkening screen of his phone for a while before he stuffed it back into his pocket. The red light at the crossroads made him impatiently move from one foot to the other, trying to keep himself warm, but his mind was elsewhere and something was bugging him. And it took him a moment until he realised what it was.

There was somebody staring at him.

Dan looked up to meet the eyes of another man, but the other one was the literal opposite of what Dan was. Dan had a clean, relatively new coat on, his hair neatly styled despite the unruly curls, skin clear and healthy even through paleness; the other man looked like he hadn't seen a shower in weeks. His clothes had once been nice, now they were dangly and torn, too many layers on him in compensation. There was that unhealthy gleam about his skin too and it made a shiver run down Dan's back.

He knew that look.

The light turned to green and Dan began to make his way across the street while the stranger, his gaze blank and feet dragging across the pavement, began walking towards him. Dan could see the hands that were impatiently pulling at the seams of the already broken jacket, fingers a lot more alive than anything else about the stranger.

As he kept coming closer, time seemed to move slower.

Before Dan knew it, they had passed each other and Dan stopped, turning to look back only to see the man keep walking towards a run down building, crossing the street diagonally when no cars were present. He felt the corners of his mouth pulling into a frown as he watched the man disappear around the corner.

Unfortunately Dan understood far too well what he had just witnessed.

It reminded him of why he was doing what he did, and why he had gone from simply wanting to become a psychiatrist to someone who had to get involved into his client lives so intimately.

Quickly, he shot a message to Phil for him to let Dan know if he wanted anything else, and his eyes lingering on the screen until the 'Read' notification popped up. There was no response, and Dan pocketed the phone again and continued to the store, his mind plagued by his memories.

Despite the heaviness of his thoughts, Dan returned only after the milk and granola bars were in a plastic bag by his side. When he pushed the door open, he heard the music coming from Phil's room again, loud and unapologetic, but it soon quieted down and Phil appeared in the stairway as if the other man had heard Dan arriving through it all.

“I got you the granola,” Dan raised the bag and Phil smiled brightly at him, excitedly grabbing the bag from Dan's hands and disappearing into the kitchen with only the sound of humming left behind for Dan to react to. It was relaxed, almost friendly, and, a smile on his lips and a brow arched, Dan kicked off his shoes and jacket and followed the other man through the flat, watching as Phil merrily grabbed plates and groceries to start making dinner.

“What's got you so excited?” Dan pulled out a chair and took a seat.

“I had more candy!”

With that the topic was dropped, though Dan was still wondering about the glazed over staring eyes of the addict haunting his memory.

And suddenly Dan realised it more clearly than ever.

He never wanted to see Phil like that.

======

It was again the buzzing of his phone that woke Dan up one crisp cold morning, and it took several clumsy attempts to reach the phone until his fingers wrapped around the device. Without really looking at the screen he picked up to respond, pressing the phone against his ear, his voice raspy with sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Still bumming around at noon, I knew nothing good has come of you.”

His eyes snapped wide open.

The voice on the other end made his blood instantly turn cold. His heart sped up, too quickly for just having been drawn out of sleep and suddenly he felt extremely dizzy. His stomach turned, and nauseous anxiety made a slight shiver take over his whole body.

He hadn't heard that voice for the last three and a half years, only a memory of it accompanying the letters he'd received over the years.

He had dreaded hearing it again, and now that he did, he was unable to do anything about it.

“And still no fight in you. Coward.”

That snapped him out of the initial shock and slowly he pushed himself to sit up in the bed. He could feel how faint his lungs felt and how loudly his heart sounded in his ears as it beat against the inside of his ribcage rapidly. He had eventually changed his number and blocked all of theirs that he knew. Yet here he was, listening to the same accusatory voice that once upon a time had been so kind and gentle when carrying his name, like a mother's voice would.

Now it only sowed dread into his bones and cut like the sharpest of knives.

He opened his mouth, a sound barely escaping his lips before he was unceremoniously interrupted, “I don't need your excuses. We gave you a warning, a fair one, as one last chance of being civil. And this is how you repay us? By ignoring us? And when we fulfil the promise, you go on and send some bloodhound after us to threaten with whatever sick imagination of justice you have.”

Send a….

“I'm sorry, what?” Though she kept on going he ignored Mrs Ingham’s angry words and instead just threw his legs over the side of the bed, more awake than what felt like in forever. “Send a bloodhound? _What the hell are you on about?”_

Though the dread was still fully present, there was also too much confusion to ignore and his brain latched onto the safer option instantly. That also seemed to manage to steer the conversation in a somewhat different direction, for which Dan was subconsciously thankful for; for years he'd tried to explain himself, now he was given a chance to question.

“Oh my Lord, are you so high or drunk most of your days that you can't even remember sending your little friend to threaten us?”

“What friend? What are you talking about?” He grew increasingly confused, and pushed on to get his answers. Dan hadn't told anyone but his parents about what had happened, and only to explain his change in degree and why he felt the need to change his number. But that had been years ago and his parents lived in purely oblivious bliss of the fact that the problem was still persisting.

So who else could it have been….

The world around him as if stopped when a realisation hit him.

“Did you send another letter?” His voice was unexpectedly calm and smooth when he asked this, and it was like all his fears, all his emotions were halted until he heard the response.

“Yes--” He knew she continued ranting on after that but he couldn't hear her anymore. There was a low pulsing somewhere in his forehead, like a budding headache, and he interrupted her with a kind of ease that he had never experienced before, “Thank you. Good bye.”

She was still going on when he ended the call.

======

His knuckles rattled against Phil's bedroom door firmly, but calmly, and Dan pocketed his hands as soon as he heard the shuffling on the other side. Dark eyes stared at the equally dark wood until the door was pulled open to reveal a ruffled up Phil, who offered him a small, sleepy smile. The bleariness of the blue eyes was a good indication that Dan had drawn Phil out of bed just now.

“G'mornin',” Phil mumbled, too sleepy and unaware of why the situation was odd. Dan never disturbed him before his morning coffee, unless the other man had slept in.

“Is there anything you've forgotten to tell me,” Dan stood in Phil's way while the older man automatically tried to get past him, resulting in a soft collision between the two, but Dan remained unmoved. Phil, having expected Dan to move, reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose where they had slid down and gave the other man a puzzled look.

“What do you mean?” Phil brought his hand up again when a loud yawn escaped his mouth all of a sudden, and motioned at Dan to move aside, “Can I get my coffee first, we can talk right after.”

“No.”

Phil paused at that, lowering his hand and vision clearing a little bit as he looked at Dan whose whole complexion radiated a feeling akin to the calm before a storm. His hands were tucked inside his pockets, but his shoulders were tense. His eyes blinked calmly, but there was a hard quality about the brown tint. He spoke like he usually would, a little bit under his nose, but each word was direct, sharp in its quietness, a little more threatening than it usually was.

“What's up, Dan?” He finally asked.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” Dan's voice was still controlled but there was an edge to it and his eyes were stone cold peaceful as he looked at Phil. Dawning realisation wrote itself onto Phil's face, and Dan felt how the discontent grew and molded in his stomach, burning and pinching his insides so much that his fingers curled into fists in his pockets.

It was clear that Phil couldn't and didn't want to keep it a secret, to insist that Dan was just making assumptions. It was that giving in that felt like a punch to the gut; Dan was right, and the hope he still had that he had made a mistake was gone.

“I just wanted to help,” Phil’s voice was so quiet that Dan could have imagined it. But he saw the lips move, saw the way Phil's frame shrunk a little when he spoke, how his eyes trailed to the side, avoiding looking into Dan's.

It took a moment until Dan found the composure to speak again, and when he did, his voice was shaking just a little bit with the boiling within his being, “I never told you anything about this. You had no reason to go through my mail.”

Phil shrunk more at that, shoulders curling forward a little, and looked down at his socked feet.

“How much do you know?”

“The letter was very long,” Phil didn't look up when he answered, and instead began fiddling with the hem of the old, wrinkled t-shirt that he had slept in. Dan just stared at the fingers pulling at the fabric for a while, silence falling between the two men. But Phil didn't dare to break it and Dan simply couldn't. Not yet.

Dan was aware that losing his composure would do no good, had been pretty much training himself to know when it was the right time to let loose and when to contain. He understood that in his line of work it mattered a lot to be almost parental, while still maintaining the equality in the strange relationship that he formed with his clients. One misstep and the fragile bond could be irreparably ruined and even the change of companion would do no good.

Yet all he wanted to do now, despite how sorry Phil looked, was to punch the other man squarely in the face for ever invading the most sensitive part of Dan's life. It was something he shared only with those he trusted and he could count those people on his left hand--

Trust.

Dan was taken aback enough by that realisation that when Phil looked up shyly, what he was faced with was the stunned expression on Dan's face.

“Wha--” Phil started, but Dan brought his hand up, a little shaky still and little crescents imbedded into his skin where the fingernails had dug.

“Can I get my letter back now?”

Phil hesitated for a moment and Dan gave him a solemn look, “What?”

“There were… two.”

A hot white flash took over Dan's whole body then, his fingers curled into a fist when he hit the doorframe, eyes ablaze, “Give me back my letters!” The anger, as fast as it had completely immobilised his mind, released it and though still furious, Dan felt a bit of guilt pour into his soul over the sudden outburst.

Phil instantly shrunk even more and tripping over his feet, turned and began to rummage through his bookshelf. A few books were shoved too far and fell onto the ground but he paid them no mind and instead fished out two neatly opened letters from the back of the shelf and quickly extended them towards Dan. “I just wanted to help,” His voice was faint when Dan snatched the letters out of Phil's hand and turned to leave without another word.

He didn't care when he slammed the creaky door behind him with a lot more force than he’d intended, when the wood creaked uncomfortably from it. The sound filled his head as he stood in the middle of his bedroom, breathing heavily like he had sprinted halfway across the block rather than just twenty steps down the hallway. The letters were crumpled in his hand and he let them fall onto the floor when his fingers unlocked around the pieces of paper gingerly.

Dark eyes looked at the slightly yellowed envelopes and the white papers peeking out from them.

He didn't want to know the contents. He could see the thick sheets of paper peeking from the one which had a familiar handwriting spelling out his name, and he already understood that it was probably a more detailed version of why Dan was scum in the scenario of what had become of Alec. Dan just hated the idea of Phil sitting and reading all of it. He didn't want anyone to see the nasty accusations, because they were his burden to carry and deal with.

His eyes trailed from the first letter to the other one, noting the way the name was printed officially on it.

He didn't have to look closely to know that it was some kind of court issued letter; he had seen plenty of them during one of his first contracts. His client at a time had a rather criminal history that was still coming back to haunt him when Dan had worked with him. It had been the only job Dan could get with his limited work experience at the time and it had been a good lesson for the future.

To say that it was one of the hardest jobs he'd ever taken would have been an understatement.

He just never thought that his own past would land him in a similar spot.

He stood there silently, staring at the envelopes when a tentative knock on his door displaced the numbing silence in his room, and his buzzing mind latched onto the sound so quickly it made him feel a little lightheaded for a moment. It was a light sound, one that could have been easily missed if not for the old door creaking quietly, but in the silence of Dan's room, it had the strength of a cannon exploding.

Dan gladly used that to look away from the letters but when he eyed the door, he felt his muscles tense again, waiting for another knock but it never came. Instead he could hear the shuffling of feet when Phil made his way downstairs, and each step sounded extremely exhausted.

It made Dan rage subside, if only a little bit, but he didn't move to follow the other man.

He couldn't. Not yet.

It was like the letters had taken up a lot bigger space with their presence, though perfectly still on the floor. It weighed heavily on Dan's soul. It made it harder to breathe. It made him want to vanish just so it would stop, but not in the way Alec had.

He just wanted a peaceful new start at times, though he knew those were fictional.

There was no running away. And as impossible as it seemed that his mistakes could ever be fixed, Dan understood - he would have to try over and over again until it would be finally over.

======

“No, stay,” Dan said when he entered the kitchen and saw Phil scrambling to his feet to head out; instantly the older man complied. Dan could see the way Phil began pulling at his shirt again, the way his hair was still, if not even worse of, a mess, and how the glasses were too low on his hooked nose as Phil looked over the edge at Dan, probably not really seeing him very well.

“Can you just….” Dan tried to form a coherent sentence, but his forehead creased when he furrowed his brows, and the words began to turn into a mess in his mind. So he took a deep breath, and tried again, “What exactly did you tell them?”

He didn't want to sound accusatory, but the words escaped his lips before he thought them through.

“How did you threaten them and why?”

The silence felt deafening.

Phil just kept pulling at the old shirt and his teeth raked over his lower lip so much, it was a little swollen by the time Dan stepped closer, unable to deal with the lack of answers.

“Phil.” His voice was low, demanding, and Dan felt how part of himself was already hating this. The way Phil seemed to get more agitated was eating at the edges of Dan's anger, seeping into the younger man's soul until he could feel the anxious tug at his heart.

“I just…. The way they went about it…. It's not legal. It's stalking,” Phil, his voice low and a little confused, tried to explain as he looked down at the table, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt more.

Dan clenched his jaw at that. He had had the thought go through his mind many times, but he always tried to justify their actions somehow. There was grief, the deepest kind, and Dan had been the only one who could have prevented it. He had studied more, and understood that his presence had very little chance of changing the course of events, yet always when he considered to officially call the family stalkers, he shook the idea away.

The guilt kept winning, the what if's always plaguing him when he let his mind wander back to that night.

In the end, he understood that all he could do was notice the signs, that he was not responsible for what had happened. Yet it didn't make it any easier to put himself first when he had known how dearly the parents had loved their only son.

He felt that though he knew what they did was wrong and he ran from their abuse, he wanted to give them something to blame sometimes, if only to allow them to find some peace.

And it made him angry.

So angry.

At himself.

At the Inghams.

At Phil.

“So apparently snooping through my mail makes it better if you find worse stalkers in the process?” His voice was dripping in angry sarcasm as Dan spoke, and Phil chewed down more on his lower lip at that. To Dan he almost looked like an overgrown child caught in a lie and something about that made Dan equally more furious and worried. It was a type of vulnerability and fright he'd never seen of Phil, and the fact that the other man didn't fight back just made him feel like Dan was in the wrong.

And he was so tired of always being the one who was wrong.

“You know what? Sure.” His mind was racing but his tongue was quicker, and the regret began to accumulate even before he was done speaking, before his thoughts had even caught up, “You're right. Everyone is right. Do what you want. I'm done.”

He felt the shock that radiated from Phil, but he couldn't see it, his vision cloudy. He tilted his head back and drew in a breath, trying to keep it as steady as possible but even with the first inhale, he was shaking too hard to hide. Dan drew in a couple more breaths, until they steadied a bit and he looked down, rubbing the sleeve of his hoodie at his eyes before he looked up at Phil again solemnly.

He could see the distress, but he couldn't find it in himself to try to fix it. He was too bitter and hurt and those feelings ate at his empathy.

“I'm done,” He repeated again and his voice hitched a little and he waved his hands uncertainly before clapping them against his thighs in defeat, “I'm done.”

It was like he was an old record player, stuck on the same phrase, and there was nobody to restart or shut him down.

Phil just sat there, too, all the emotions washing away from his face until he looked like an emotionless mannequin sitting by the kitchen table, hands still on his lap in an eerie manner. He didn't speak, he didn't try to counter anything Dan had said, he didn't fight or defend himself. He just stared at Dan as the other man stood there, now staring at a spot on the floor unseeingly, the eyes as if trying to burn holes in the wooden planks.

Perhaps they had been right, Dan thought, and he was too sensitive for this profession. So many times he'd taken their problems as his own, had been shot down and beaten. So many times it had reached the point where it seemed impossible to help anymore. So many nights he'd spent wondering if even when he succeeded, had he made any difference in the world.

Dan didn't even have a full recollection of how he had ended up back in his room, all the drawers pulled open and a bag on the floor. He sat in the midst of the mess, rubbing his face and trying to make sense of what had happened.

Immediately he understood that he had made a mistake.

Later on he found it in himself to admit that he had never truly found out the reasons why.

Then he realised what exactly he had said.

“Shit,” He swore to himself, slowly dragging himself onto his feet as he shook his head. Angrily he kicked at the letters when he noticed them and he could hear the rough flooring tear at the backs of the envelopes but he didn't care.

“Phil?” He called out into the apartment but it was silent. He went to knock on the door of the other man's bedroom but the door fell ajar lifelessly and when Dan looked inside, the place was vacant.

“Phil?” He kept calling for the other man as he made his way onto the rooftop but it was absent of the man. His usual companions - the pigeons - sat on the ledge, curiously looking at Dan. “Hungry bastards,” Dan muttered when one took the risk of flying at Dan to try and settle on his head only to flutter away when Dan shooed it off.

Dan bit at the inside of his cheek as he made his way downstairs, slowly.

He had screwed up big time and it was a mixture of guilt and pent-up anger towards the Inghams that coursed through his being.

And he understood - it was time to make a change in his own life finally.

Returning to his room, he grabbed the letters and his laptop, and began to type out an email to the address given to him in the court issue. He was done with being scared and guilted for living a life. He was done letting them walk all over him.

It took him a good hour to write and review the email before, his throat dry, he let his index finger hover over the mousepad over the send button. Dan was aware of the risk of what he was doing and naturally the fear and doubt began to plague him, so before it could stop him, he quickly tapped on the send and slammed his laptop shut.

He expected relief, but it never came, his heart still too fast and his throat too dry no matter how many times he swallowed. So instead he dug into his pocket for his phone and opened his text thread with Phil. He frowned down at it, where the usual checking in was mixed with a couple of more silly, relaxed messages about shopping and an occasional one about a dog. It had gone from 'I'm fine. At store.' to 'I'm at the store, let me know if you need anything' and some emojis had sneaked their way into their conversations.

The more Dan scrolled, the more his chest hurt. Finally he typed out a quick 'Where are you? I'm sorry for what I said before. I think we need to talk' and sent it. He waited for the 'read' notification to pop up, but after a couple of minutes he just sighed and set the phone aside.

He looked around at the room, eying the open drawers, the bag and the unmade bed. There were scraps of paper visible on the floor where the plank edge had dug into the envelopes, and there were some socks on the floor, peeking out from just below the bed. Slowly, he moved around the room, closing one drawer after the other, stuffing the bag into the closet, and the socks into a laundry bag. He stared at the few white scraps for a moment before he kneeled and plucked them out and threw them in the trash bin.

It felt like straightening out his room was the equivalent of his life and the heaviness in his chest released slowly only to be replaced with the wondering about the silence.

'Where are you?' He sent another text and he furrowed his brows when he eyed the digits spelling out the time in the corner of his phone screen.

Time ticked away.

Two hours finally rolled around and he knew that he had waited too long to get a response. So he tried to call.

The dial tone was first, but then Dan heard the buzzing.

He lowered his phone without ending the call and listened. One buzz, second, third. It went on and on until the call disconnected and the buzzing ended.

Dan swallowed, his throat painfully dry, and dialled again, following the sound to soon discover the source as Phil's room. Slowly Dan made his way down the hall and into it. It felt wrong to be there without Phil, but as Dan walked around the bed, he spotted the buzzing device on the floor, dropped and forgotten.

“No...” His breath expelled the word so deeply from his lungs it hurt and Dan ran out of Phil's room, looking for any sign of where Phil could have gone but drawing a blank. His shoes were gone, and so was his jacket.

Dan had screwed up a lot worse than he had realised.

“God damnit,” He kept swearing to himself, throwing on his jacket and shoes as he rushed out onto the street. The first thing he noticed was the crisp coldness as he lingered on the street by the house unsure where to go.

Where could Phil go? Not to the meeting centre; no matter how much more relaxed he'd become, it was clear that Phil didn't like going there. To the store? But there was no reason to do that, they had refilled the fridge with essentials just the other day. The park? It was a long walk, and it wasn't guaranteed that Dan would find him, but it was his best guess. So he began to jog, each breath a harsh attack to his lungs, but he buried his face in the collar of his jacket to soothe it.

Several times he automatically dug for his phone only to push it back into his pocket when he remembered that Phil had left his phone behind. And he really didn't want to call the police yet. Though it could be seen as stubbornness, it was less about Dan's career and more about the hope for Phil. He didn't want to make it worse than he already had.

Not when there was still hope.

Dan nearly tripped when he got off the bus near the park, which earned him a couple of strange looks but he ignored them, rushing past. He hadn't realised how big it was before but he kept hurrying down paths, looking around, and with every bench and dark empty picnic spot that he passed, his heart sunk deeper and deeper. Perhaps Phil wasn't even there, and Dan had wasted a lot of precious time.

“Fuck,” The swear escaped him with a lot more emotion than he intended it to when he rounded the corner only to find the bench there vacant and covered in frosty rotting leaves.

“Phil, _where the hell are you?”_ Dan looked at the phone again, which was still as silent about Phil's whereabouts as it had been thus far. Begrudgingly, Dan unlocked his phone and slowly began dialing the emergency number, unwilling to believe that it had come to this, and it was all Dan's fault; he had let the hurt take over, the pettiness making him act without thinking about the reasons why Phil had done what he did, not once had he considered that perhaps the other man had been trying to do it with good intentions.

His finger hovered over the call button, and Dan bit the inside of his cheek, frantically searching the relatively empty park area with his eyes.

Another swear in his throat, he locked and stuffed away his phone once again and made his way up a small hill where the area was thickly guarded by the branches of trees and bushes from three sides, but one which they did not, he could have a good view of the majority of the park. His lungs ached with the cold, but the gasping sounds promptly stopped when Dan looked up and spotted a familiar figure, hunched heavily and sat on a bench.

It was a mixture of relief and dread that washed over Dan; he had found him, yes, but there was something unnatural about the way Phil's whole posture was so drawn to the ground and unmoving.

“Phil?” Slowly inching closer, Dan tried to catch the other man's attention but there was no response. “Phil?” He tried again, louder this time but it was met with the same kind of silence, so, caution thrown to wind, Dan walked right up to the man and reached out to shake Phil's shoulder. His whole body swayed back heavily and his head fell backwards so swiftly and loosely Dan winced at the sight. At the same time an empty bottle rolled off the man's lap and smashed into large fragments at Phil's feet.

That seemed to be what finally drew Phil out of the depths of his slumber and he grunted in response, though there was nothing else to indicate that the man was in any form of a coherent state.

“Bloody hell, what did you do?” Dan muttered more to himself than to Phil who had fallen silent again, and without much liberty, Dan grabbed Phil's arm to drag one sleeve up, then - the other.

It felt like a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders when he spotted no fresh marks on the man's arms, only old discolourations, and he leaned over the tall figure to carefully take off the glasses resting against his face and pull the eyelids open. But at that moment, Phil finally moved, blinking blearily without his eyewear; Dan carefully perched them back onto Phil's nose.

“Get off me,” Phil muttered, reaching out to clumsily push at Dan before he began feeling around for what seemed like the bottle.

“Phil, look at me,” Dan insisted meanwhile, taking a seat next to Phil after kicking aside the glass shards on the ground.

“Fuck off!” Phil suddenly yelled so loudly that it made Dan jump and some spooked birds shot up into the sky from a nearby tree. “I don't fucking need your help,” Phil kept on swearing in a manner Dan had never heard him as he pushed himself up on his feet only to nearly instantly fall over, but Dan caught him at the last moment.

“Come on, let me help,” Dan insisted, and though the mumbling that came from Phil seemed to try and fight it, his heavy frame leaned onto Dan, making his knees buckle a bit. He hoisted the other man's arm over his shoulders and wrapped his own around Phil's back. “I'll take you home now, alright?”

There was only an incoherent mutter back.

Pulling Phil along, Dan tried to walk, only to feel Phil sway heavily and he stopped to stabilise the other man, “Come on, stay awake, we need to get you somewhere warm.”

“-'M fine” Phil tried to mutter back, his head hanging low but Dan began pulling him ahead and step by step they began their trip back.

Dan could feel gazes on them as they walked out into the street, but he ignored them again, instead focused on Phil, “We're almost there,” He lied and Phil kept nodding tiredly as Dan looked up to hail a cab.

Finally, he caught one, and though the cab driver gave them concerned looks when Dan pushed Phil into the back seat, Dan assured the man that any damage would covered. “I really need to get him home,” There was a bit of a plea in Dan's voice at that and, lips pressed together, the cabbie finally began their drive.

The whole trip, Dan kept glancing back at Phil worriedly, who just sat in the back, his head low still, muttering all the time to himself.

Thankfully they arrived without any trouble and as soon as Dan had paid to the cabbie, he dragged Phil up the stairs, “Just a few more,” He kept murmuring to the other man and though there weren't any coherent responses, Dan could only be relieved when they stepped over the threshold of the apartment.

Tucking Phil under a blanket in the living room, Dan breathed a sigh of relief when he set the kettle to boil. Fingers combing through his hair, he leaned on the counter, staring down at the two mugs thoughtfully.

It was a serious situation that he couldn't ignore; there were even specific rules on these, but all of them had the prerequisite of it being started by reasons within the client and not within the companion.

Rustling caught his attention and curiously he looked into the living room when Phil was clumsily trying to sit up on the couch. “Come on, you need to sleep it off.” Dan frowned at Phil and inched closer only to see that as soon as Phil had managed to sit up, he had begun shaking violently.

“Hey, hey what's wrong?” Instantly Dan found a seat next to Phil, noting the tears that were running down the pale cheeks even before the first sobs found their way over Phil's lips.

Dan frowned, reaching out to place his hand on Phil's back, noting how badly the man was trembling.

“-'m su-such a f-f-f-failure,” Phil managed out in a shaky breath and clumsily wiped at his eyes with the edge of the blanket.

“Shh, you're not a failure,” Dan tried to soothe the man, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and Phil leaned into him almost instantly, shaking violently as the sobs became louder with every one that passed. Slowly, as Dan rubbed Phil's arm, the sobs calmed a little and Phil began to fumble around, pulling at his clothes until a small transparent ziplock bag fell out from the bundle of clothing.

They sat silently, staring down at it and it felt as if Phil was shaking even more under Dan's arm so he squeezed him reassuringly, though his blood felt cold in his veins. He understood what the package contained and it was only because it was sealed tightly that Dan didn’t instantly summon a cab for a trip to the hospital. He had checked for signs and he liked to believe that he knew to notice if Phil would have relapsed and used.

“T-They alw-ways tell you a-about th-the dangers of d-drugs,” Phil began to speak shakily and Dan remained silent to let him continue, “B-bu-but they d-don't ex-explain t-t-the truth.”

Dan took the silence as a permission and leaned forward to pick the offending package off the floor, eying the white powder before he hid it out of Phil's line of sight. When he looked at the other man, Phil was looking at him, his face red and puffy, and wet from the tears that still seemed to find their way from his tear ducts.

And there was so much pain in those blue eyes.

“T-they s-say it's e-euphoria,” Though still bleary with drunkenness, Phil was focused on Dan's face in a way that deemed Dan speechless even if he would have wanted to say anything, “B-b-but it's not. No-not entirely.”

Finally Phil looked away and Dan drew in a breath that he didn't realise that he had been holding and he wrapped his arm around Phil's shoulders again.

“I-it hurt s-so much,” It was hard to tell if Phil was thinking or composing himself with every pause between each sentence that he said, “T-that h-he d-didn't l-let me help. I c-can't d-d-do an-anything right. I-I c-can't he-help an-anyone. I-I-'m s-such….” Dan felt Phil begin to shake once more and he hushed the man, pulling him closer and Phil gladly leaned into Dan, hiding his face in Dan's shirt clumsily.

Dan felt the hot shaky breaths seeping through the fabric, making his skin prickle, but he held on.

Gently he rubbed Phil's back until the man's breath calmed so much that for a moment Dan thought that Phil had fallen asleep only for Phil to suddenly speak up, muffled, “It took the pain away.” It was like a tentative confession and Dan felt Phil's fingers curl into the front of Dan's shirt, holding on tightly as if he was afraid that Dan would leave once he heard the truth, “I hurt so much-- and it-- it took it away. And then it wore off and the pain came back and I...” To that, Dan merely pulled Phil closer and felt how the other man's limbs tensed for a moment only to relax into the embrace slowly.

“Before I knew it I couldn't imagine going back to it, it hurt more and more every time it wore off and I was...” Phil drew in a breath, making Dan's skin prickle again but he held on tightly, “I was so afraid…. Nobody was there for me except for heroin...” A violent shiver coursed through Phil's entire being when he pronounced the drug's name and it entered Dan's lungs and his breath shook at that.

“You're not alone, Phil,” Dan assured the man gently.

It was a little while later that Phil had fallen asleep, still pressed up against Dan. Carefully, Dan peeled the man off himself and tucked him back into the blanket before he retreated to the kitchen.

The little bag was on the table as Dan sipped at his tea slowly, staring at it.

He knew that he had to report back to Phil's parents about this, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. If, from what he had pieced together in the last few months, he understood correctly, this was Phil's one shot, one last opportunity given to him by his family and it was important to succeed.

And Dan saw that Phil did want to do it too, even if he seemed lost about how to achieve it.

Dan bit his lip as he set the cup down.

He was going to give him one last shot.

Carefully Dan opened the package as he emptied it into the toilet bowl, flushing it all down until he was sure no residue remained. He washed the package and tossed it into the trash before he began vigorously scrubbing his hands.

When he settled back at the kitchen table, his tea was cold.

=====

“Dan, there is someone I would like to introduce you to,” Phil called as soon as the flat door had closed and Dan curiously looked up from the paperwork that he was reading through for the restraining order.

It had been a difficult climb for both of them as November had bled into December with a quiet and careful Christmas between the two men as they built up themselves and each other. Dan had given Phil a book on birds, Phil - an ironic mug of world's best dad. New Year’s had been a calm evening of the two of them discussing movies they had seen during the few days that they had stayed in.

With the start of January, the case for restraining order had been opened and Phil had started attending meetings more willingly.

So when Dan heard that Phil had brought somebody along, he allowed a smile take over his features and he left the kitchen to greet Phil and the stranger that was now looking around the hallway curiously.

“Dan, this is Joseph,” Phil motioned at stranger, “Joseph, this is Dan.”

“Pleasure to meet you, I've heard a lot about you from Phil,” Joseph's voice was pleasantly deep and Dan gladly wrapped his fingers around his hand as they shook. Dan eyed the man; he had pleasant dirty blond hair, neatly chopped and his eyes were a dark brown hue, one that seemed a lot warmer than Dan's own. He was tall, proud, but something about his face was pleasant and friendly.

“I wish I could return the favour,” Dan gave Phil a look, eyebrow arched and Phil shoved at Dan's shoulder playfully.

“Shut up, I wanted to make sure the decision was my own.”

“Oh? Decision?” Dan questioned and Joseph just smiled looking from one man to the other without giving away any truth and Dan brought up his hand to stop Phil, “Perhaps we should all get something to drink before the big reveal?”

To that Phil just rolled his eyes. Dan laughed and waved the two to follow him to the kitchen as he quickly tidied up the paperwork and set it aside in favour of making some tea, “So what decision have you made?” Dan finally prompted, seeing that Phil seemed impatient to tell. He set the mugs in front of the two men seated before grabbing his own and joining them.

“Well, you told me I should find a sponsor, so, here he is!” Phil waved at Joseph.

It felt like Dan's cheeks would split from how wide his smile grew hearing that, ''Really? What is your story?”

Joseph, Dan soon found out, was someone who had fallen due to grief as well and could relate to Phil's story flawlessly, though his gateway drug to the addiction had been different. Clean now for good six years, he had ended up talking to Phil after a group discussion and they had hit it off so well that the decision hadn't taken long to make.

He was the perfect person, in Dan's eyes, and it was clear that the man was lively and funny too, which was a great bonus.

It had taken a few hours of chatting until finally Joseph had excused himself with an announcement of an evening shift and the need to get going if he didn't want to be late. As Phil saw him off and Dan cleared the table of the mugs and the plates, on which eventually sandwiches had been laid out, Dan hummed to himself, happy with the turn of events of the day. Though six months could seem like a forever, it was a time that ticked away quickly and it was a safe feeling to know that once Dan's contract would run out in a month and a half, Phil would have somebody to turn to at any hour of the day.

“So what do you think?”

“Hm?” Dan turned around while drying his hands in the kitchen towel. Phil just gave him a pointed look and Dan smiled, “I think he's great. You made a good decision and I'm proud.”

To that Phil flushed and his fingers began pulling at the hem of his shirt in that familiar manner though he soon pocketed his hands instead to stop himself. “I'm glad you approve,” He murmured and when Dan walked up close to Phil, the older man looking up at him, was when it was more apparent than most times that they were almost the same height.

Dan put his hands on Phil's shoulders, giving them a light squeeze, “I trust your decisions and I believe in you, so of course I approve. If you think he is good for you, then that is the right choice.”

So close, Dan could see how lively Phil's eyes looked and how the smile that bloomed on his features reached every little muscle in his face, and how the last month had managed to re-draw some of the laughter lines Dan assumed Phil had been forming before already.

“Thank you.” The words were soft and suddenly Dan felt arms around his waist as he was pulled closer, his own arms awkwardly slipping over Phil's shoulders. He was drawn into a hug and after the initial confusion, he laughed, allowing his arms to awkwardly lock around Phil in return.

“It's what I do,” He added once they parted and though Dan thought that he saw something flicker in Phil's expression, it was gone as soon as it appeared.

“Want to watch something? I grabbed some bad horror movies from the second hand store today,” Phil offered, nodding his head towards the stairs. They had fallen into a habit of, a couple times a week, watching some random movies that were admittedly terrible, but somehow managed to make the two relax around each other and completely dissipate the awkwardness from Christmas.

It was a reminder to Dan that he had once considered a different life, one where circumstances had been different, where they might have met in some random situation and would have become friends, hanging out when they wanted to without any obligation hidden between every action.

And perhaps they really were becoming more, becoming friends, and it was equally amazing and terrifying.

“I need to finish the paperwork,” Dan pointed at the pile that he had set aside earlier.

Phil eyed them curiously, “Can I help?”

To that, Dan just tapped Phil on the head lightly, “You've helped enough.”

The pause that set between them felt heavy with the unsaid, and Phil swallowed and opened his mouth to speak but Dan interrupted him, his voice calm and genuine, “I promise you, you really did help. I wouldn't have started this without you.”

“I've been meaning to apologise still,” Phil began as soon as Dan was done despite being interrupted, “I could tell something was wrong, but I should've asked you instead of snooping.”

To that Dan just turned to get the papers and settled by the kitchen table again, “Honestly, I wouldn't have told you if you had.” He admitted while turning over page by page until he arrived to where he'd left off earlier, “I wouldn't want to put this on your conscience when there was so much already going on. Kicking a year long habit like that wasn't going to be easy as that.”

There was shifting and the scraping of a chair when it was pulled away from the table to let Phil sit down, “I want to hear your story too.”

Dan froze at that, his hand stopping in the middle of writing, and looked up without properly raising his head, “You read it all in the letter already.”

Phil shifted at that, but held eye contact through the dark-rimmed glasses. “It was their version of what happened, not yours,” He answered quietly.

With a sigh Dan sat up straight and placed the pen down and ran his hand through his curly hair, “I'm not supposed to let my clients in on my life.”

“I'm not asking as a client,” Phil's tone was soft, so soft, “I'm asking as a friend.”

=====

There was snow falling from the steely grey skies when Dan exited the flat which had become a little too lonesome while Phil was out with Joseph. They had gone to a meeting again after which they were supposed to go and have a look at some job prospects for Phil. As happy as Dan was with this improvement, with every passing day, it was getting increasingly quiet in the flat.

He truly was overjoyed for Phil as not that many people managed to make this big of a progress in such a short amount of time. But he also had to admit that he felt a little jealous of the way Phil's time seemed to be booked full with doing things with Joseph. It made him lonely and at times it made him feel like he wasn't doing his job anymore and the two were just flatmates rather than people who had to work together.

It was good for Phil who was exhausted enough to sleep early and peacefully now.

Dan just wished that he could say that it was his achievement and that he would have had time to make the good memories with Phil as well, to even out his memories of time with this particular contract.

Earphones in, he huddled into his coat and made his way to the bus station. It was cold, but it was also coming up to Alec's birthday and it was so that Dan's friend had been a Londoner, now buried in one of the capital's cemeteries. And Dan hadn't visited him for a long time. He got on the bus unaware of the world around him and it was as he took a rare free seat that he saw Phil basically jump into the bus too.

Dan blinked at that, taking one earphone out when Phil, smiling brightly, walked up to Dan and plopped next to him, “I was calling for you but you didn't seem to hear me.” Phil explained and Dan apologetically motioned to the earphones.

“You could have just texted me, you know,” Dan retorted with familiar ease and Phil leaned back in the small seat and relaxed.

“I haven't had the chance to spend time with you,” Phil admitted when Dan kept staring and there was a slight redness on Phil's cheeks that didn't look like it was caused by the frost outdoors, “And I saw you leaving so I thought, hey, I might as well join him on his adventures.”

“Err, I don't think this is an adventure for you,” Dan muttered distractedly while stuffing his earphones into his pocket, silently praying that they wouldn't tangle like they always seemed to magically do. All whilst he did it, Phil seemed to look around at everything but Dan which made him arch his brow at the older man, “Is there something you're not saying, Phil?”

He saw teeth dig into the lower lip at that and he looked around before leaning in a bit closer, “Is something wrong?” Yet despite the question, he found that his eyes lingered on the reddened lips before he looked back up at Phil's averted eyes.

“I miss spending time with you, okay?” Phil finally spilled, and lowered his voice as he continued on, “Joseph is great, don't get me wrong. He understands what I want to achieve, but I’m so tired of all his suggested daily activities. I just want to hang out watching crappy movies again.”

“Is that it?” Dan asked and Phil pouted at that in an unexpectedly endearing way.

“I can't wish for a nice day in on my birthday?”

“It's your birthday?” Dan blinked, surprised.

“Guess somebody didn't read whatever files you got about me well enough.” Phil hummed with a laugh, completely unbothered by the situation.

“Happy birthday,” Dan said quietly, awkwardly, his hands automatically patting around for any substitute to the awkwardness, to present the man with the smallest item of appreciation.

Noticing this, Phil laughed, reaching out to stop Dan's hand, “Don't worry about giving me anything. I appreciate the time more than items,” His hand lingered on Dan's arm, before he finally withdrew it and the two settled in their seats.

“So where are we headed?” Phil asked curiously, which brought Dan back to his intended destination.

“I was uh-,” Dan trailed off, a hand rushing through his curls, messing them up before he combed them back into place, “I was actually on my way to the cemetery,” He finally finished, his throat feeling awkward as he pronounced the words. This definitely wasn't how Dan wanted to spend a day that was as special as this.

There was a quiet “Oh” next to him and Dan rubbed the back of his neck, “I can do that another day, we should go grab something to eat somewhere instead.”

“Oh?” The sound returned, now questioning, and Dan looked up where Phil was toying with the end of his scarf, “I don't see why can't we do both.”

“Phil, I don't really think...”

“I would love to meet Alec.”

The silence was filled with the hacking up of the bus engine and the low murmurs of people around them. Yet it felt like it was all muffled out to Dan and he leaned back into his seat more, his lips pressed together.

He understood that it was too personal, that none of his clients had ever gotten so close to Dan's private life. It wasn't good in long term, considering that Dan would have to leave soon.

And yet…

“Sure.”

He let him in further.

=====

The rare flakes slowly fluttered through the air around the two men as they walked through the silent cemetery, the ground cold and hard beneath their feet and the air chilling their lungs.

Though they were still in the city, the silence around them made it feel like they were on another planet where they were the only animate beings, the rest taken over by the silent tombstones that only spoke in hard lines about lives started and ended. Only occasional faces caught in time could be seen in the photographs, and some quotes looped gracefully on the solid rocks were the only words uttered.

It was eerie but there was a comfort in that finality.

Rows upon rows of old and new graves alike stretched in every direction he could see. A shiver ran down Dan's back and he turned to look over his shoulder at Phil who was trailing behind him with a neutral expression on his face. But it seemed that Phil felt Dan's stare, and when their eyes met, his face bloomed with a smile and it poured warmth into Dan's being.

“We're almost there,” Dan spoke and a white cloud of breath escaped into the air, blurring Phil out of his vision a little bit before it cleared again. His voice was low, a half-whisper; it was always as if he was afraid to wake the dead, he could rarely speak in clear voice around the graves. He knew it was silly, that the dead would remain so, and even if he loved reading fantasy and science fiction, he knew that those were merely stories; yet, he could never shake the feeling.

Phil merely nodded, as if mute around these parts as well, and Dan turned to walk down another of the rows.

He saw it from a distance, the outline of the stone and he slowed down as they were coming up close to it coming to a full stop only once he stood in front of it.

“Jonathan Alec Ingham,” Phil read quietly next to Dan and it took all in Dan to not let his breath hitch. “I'm glad we've finally met,” The words rolled from Phil's lips and Dan didn't have to look at Phil to know that the other man understood - how much this actually meant to Dan.

=====

“What did you like to do before--”

“Before drugs, I get it,” Phil interrupted Dan as the two were lounging in the living room, a simple paper notepad in Dan's lap. Phil, his legs hanging over the armrest of the sofa and fingers entwined on his stomach, just stared at the ceiling but it didn't take an observation specialist to know that his gaze was unfocused and he was lost in thought.

“Did you study anything?” Dan pressed on, trying to find somewhere to start them off only to notice Phil scrunching up his face.

“Joseph already interrogated me on this about three times,” Phil explained without Dan needing to ask and Dan set the notepad aside and leaned forward a little bit with a sigh.

“Well, did he have any suggestions based on that?”

To that Phil shook his head, “I don't think he knows a good place for a former English major whose brain is rotten.”

“It's not rotten,” Dan frowned at him.

“Well it doesn't matter, does it? Anyone who has a background check on me will think it anyways, or that I will steal from them and get high while on duty or something similar….”

The silence was heavy, and the wind whistled against the corners of the house, and the neighbouring flat had soft jazz music playing, seeping through the cracks in the old building.

“It's not going to be easy,” Dan finally admitted, “But you're a good person, Phil, and people will learn to see it.”

That was met with a snort and when Phil turned to look at Dan there were clear traces of amusement on his face, “Took you only five months to notice it, I don't think any interviews last that long.”

To that Dan flushed and promptly threw the pen at Phil for it to only bounce against the sofa and fall back on the floor without ever touching the other man. “Impressive.” Phil deadpanned.

“Shut up. What I wanted to say is that I noticed it earlier, but it seemed like you were trying really hard to change that impression.”

“Maybe I thought that you liked bad boys more,” Phil looked away, stretching his hands towards the ceiling, observing his fingernails a little too carefully for it to be believable but when Dan didn't reply, he dropped his hands and pushed himself to sit up, his cheek resting against his shoulder a little when he looked at Dan. Dan just sat there, silently looking at the older man, lips pressed together like he was trying to understand something.

There were questions on Dan's mind that he didn't dare to voice. He couldn't, and not only because of his job.

So he went for the safe option of not acknowledging it.

“Better go in without that mindset when you're at an interview,” He looked down at the notepad, ready to scribble down the suggestion when he realised that the pen was still on the floor between them. So he got up from his seat and as he did, Phil did the same.

And why was Dan's heart beating so quickly?

Uselessly, Dan motioned towards the utensil on the floor and Phil knelt to pick it up, crossing that little space that separated them quickly. And suddenly Dan was more aware than ever of Phil's presence. Not even when they had last been tucked in the same sofa, for once watching a good movie on Dan's laptop, had Dan felt his senses so fully focus on Phil.

“Here you go,” Phil smiled and Dan felt the pen pressed into his hand though he was focused on the way that there seemed to be something hidden behind the blue irises when Phil held Dan's gaze a little bit longer than necessary.

“Thanks,” Dan muttered barely above a whisper and as soon as Phil had invaded his personal space, he was gone, and Dan heard the soft padding of sock-clad feet on the stairs.

The moment remained in Dan's mind when he went to sleep that night and was still lingering when he woke up the next morning and as he watched Phil lazily munch at a bowl of cereal over a steaming cup of coffee in the morning like any other person could be in the world at that exact moment.

===

“My contract is ending in two weeks,” Dan said one cold February afternoon post-meeting when the two men were settling in Phil's room and Phil was tinkering around the old DVD player to watch a knockoff version of the Snakes on a plane. What he didn't see was the way Phil nearly snapped the DVD at that, calming himself and setting it on the tray before it closed.

“That's...” Dan looked at Phil when the other man trailed off, not a great liar once you got to know him. “I mean,” Phil straightened up and when he turned around Dan noted the way his fingers were plucking at the hem of his shirt in that achingly familiar way again, “Thank you for letting me know.”

Dan just sat back against the headboard of Phil's bed, surveying the other man with worry, “You will still have my number and can call me at any point. And you have Joseph. I just won't be living here and you won't have to check in with me anymore if you don't want to. But if you feel like something is wrong, I'm still here for you, even if it might take a little while of commuting.”

“Yeah, of course,” Phil tried to lift the tone of his voice but it faltered at the end and there was a crease between his eyebrows. “It's just going to be weird living here all alone again.”

Dan just offered a half-hearted smile and patted the space beside him which Phil gladly took, their shoulders pressed up against each other's as the movie began and it was mostly silent from there on. Some vague laughs and comments about how bad the movie was and why were exchanged, but the usual cheerfulness of the activity seemed to be sucked out of them.

It was about half an hour in the movie that Dan felt Phil shifting to lie down a little lower and Dan gave the man a brief glance but Phil's eyes seemed to be fixated onto the screen. His hands were still fiddling with his shirt and Dan could only wonder how the man's hands didn't tire of it.

He wanted to reach out and calm them down, but knew that it wouldn't actually work, it would make things too complicated even with how comfortable they had gotten with random touches.

He heaved a sigh under his breath before he returned his attention to the screen.

Dan didn't know how much time had passed when he had begun to nod off and it was the sound of the movie's menu screen that stirred him awake. Groggily, he shifted, his eyelids heavy with sleep and his throat dry. He stopped, however, when he heard a low grumble and felt something around his lower body.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and the room was illuminated only by the screen of the TV and the orange of the streetlights pouring in through the window. Dan shifted his gaze lower, already aware of what he would find but his breath got stuck in his throat momentarily when he saw him.

Phil, his glasses smushed against his face, nose pressed against Dan's side, arm draped over Dan's torso. There was the faintest of snores that could be heard as the man slept peacefully. Without much thought, Dan reached out to correct some strands of hair, before he withdrew his hand and curled his fingers against his chest.

A sigh escaped his lungs once more, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headboard, his neck stiff from the uncomfortable position that he had fallen asleep in.

This wasn't right and Dan was well aware of it.

Carefully, he lifted Phil's arm and slipped off the bed. His back a little stiff, he staggered but caught himself and looked back at the sleeping figure clad in the night shadows. Phil was blissfully unaware in his sleep and only went to bunch up some of the blanket close to his body where Dan had been before.

“I'm sorry,” Dan whispered to the sleeping man when he had managed to carefully get Phil's glasses off and had turned off the TV.

He allowed himself one last glance before he quietly closed the door after himself.

===

“Are you okay? You don't look so good,” Dan frowned at Phil when the other man plopped down on the chair and, after taking a small sip of his coffee, made a face and set the mug down.

“I'm fine,” The answer had an edge to it and Dan pressed his lips together, staring as Phil rubbed his face, the glasses clumsily pushed up.

“Something is bothering you,” Dan took a seat across from Phil, leaning his arms on the table to try and get Phil's attention, succeeded slightly when Phil peeked between his fingers only to continue rubbing his face the very next moment. Dan could see patches of skin getting redder and with a frown, he reached out to grab Phil's wrists to stop the other man.

“Come on, talk to me,” Dan urged, still holding onto Phil's wrists.

Phil stared down at their hands for a moment before he spoke, “I just…. Don't feel well.” He spoke slowly and Dan released his hold.

“In what way? Are you getting sick?”

Phil shook his head at that and it took Dan motioning for him to continue before he did, his forehead creased and fingernails scratching at the table surface, making a dull noise, “I just... I feel sick, and those thoughts… I know it's wrong, and I don't want to go there, but I just have this…craving...” He trailed off again.

Dan bit at the inside of his cheek at that; it had been a while, but Dan could tell that Phil had been struggling with it before, even though not so much lately.

“We're going out,” He announced and Phil looked at him questioning, his gaze a little unfocused, “Trust me,” Dan added and offered a small smile before he got up and left the kitchen.

When he returned, Phil was rubbing the sleeves of his jacket together while standing by the front door, as if eager to get out but also worried about doing so too quickly.

“Come along,” Dan touched his arm lightly, and Phil obediently followed him outside where the February winds were harsh, but thankfully the clouds weren't brewing a storm now and instead the rare sunrays peeked between the clouds. The streets were unusually empty even for a Sunday morning, and it felt like each step echoed around the sparsely arranged houses on either side of the street. Phil was falling behind, still fidgeting and Dan reached out to touch his elbow, hooking his fingers around the other man's arm to pull him along and to disrupt the increasingly more agitated actions.

“Take deep breaths,” Dan murmured, leaning a little closer so his quiet words would reach Phil before he turned to walk into a small park.

“Hold up your hands,” Dan instructed when they suddenly stopped in a small field that was surrounded by the bare trees, cracking with the cold and the occasional breeze. Phil did as told and Dan saw how the fingers were trembling violently no matter how hard Phil seemed to be focusing on keeping them steady. Dan dug into his pocket and suddenly emptied the contents into Phil's open palms and the older man eyed the black and white seeds in his palms before giving a questioning look to Dan who only smiled back, dug into his pocket again only to hold his hands up too.

It was silent for a moment, and Phil's hands continued to shake so bad that some of the seeds spilled onto the frosty ground. This seemed to be the sign for the world to suddenly shift around them, a flock of pigeons appearing in the trees as they fluttered around the two men. Dan was still unsure about what he thought, but one look at Phil whose stressed expression had turned to a surprise, and he didn't really care to think much about where the pigeons had been, and he allowed them to settle on his arms to gluttonously peck at the seeds.

It didn't take long for the food to be gone and the birds settled to pecking at the ground instead, only once in a while glancing at the two men in hopes for more food.

“How do you feel?” Dan asked, his eyes glued to the older man who merely stared at the birds. At that though, Phil looked up and there was a certain tiredness written all over his face that told so much more than words could, but there was a small smile too.

“Calmer.”

=====

It felt harder than ever, slowly packing away the clean clothes into the suitcase instead of laying them in the closet shelves. He wavered, when his hand hovered over another black article of clothing, before he sighed and threw it into the suitcase without bothering to fold it. He sat down on the bed and looked at the hallway where he could see that Phil's door was ajar again, inviting, and music pouring from the inside of the room, but Dan couldn't bring himself to take it and face Phil.

They both understood wordlessly - the days were ticking away steadily and in just two more Dan would close the door to this flat for the last time calling it his home.

Dan had done it numerous times, but never had he found it so difficult. It was never easy, of course, but there was a certain relief of moving onwards usually. This time it felt like he was leaving too soon and he couldn't tell whether it was his worries for Phil or that unusual softness that had developed between them in this chaotic time that they had lived under the same roof.

His head buried into the job, he realised too late that the lines had blurred and he didn't know where he stood anymore. All he knew is that it was somewhere too close to let it go so easily.

His mind was still full when he made his way downstairs, wandering around the flat in search of any stray belongings, but at the same time recalling the place he had arrived to, which compared to the now only in the contents, but there was more order, life, the corners were swept clean and there were signs of usage that lined the rooms, where stray items were scattered, some intentionally and some - not.

It felt like a metaphor of Phil to Dan; same man, with his experiences and mistakes, but now clearer in his path, clearer in life and there were more thoughts scattered all over though not all quite intentional.

Yet something still felt amiss in it all.

Dan was so lost in thought, staring down at the table that he didn't notice Phil descending the stairs, now standing in the doorway. It was only after a moment that the staring registered and Dan finally looked up, his mind slowly drawn out of his thoughts and the expression changed from puzzled to a soft smile in almost lethargic manner.

“Hey,” He spoke and the voice was low, calm.

“Hey yourself,” Phil responded just as lowly and though he was smiling there was something that didn't quite reach the blue eyes.

He watched the way Phil took a step forward and then hesitated. Dan stayed put, just observing everything about the other man; the way his glasses always seemed to slide off a little, the way his fringe-cut hair was always a bit of a mess no matter how often he would correct it, the way his t-shirts always looked well-loved and happy despite the things that they had probably experienced with Phil. The way Phil's shoulders were squared and his fingers - long and so often trying to fidget too much. The way his eyes spoke so much even when his mouth was quiet.

The way he had changed so much since the first meeting and though still pale he looked better.

How he had become someone dear to Dan unexpectedly.

And how Dan realised it so strongly only now.

“Did you want to watch something tonight?” Phil asked and it seemed unnecessary to take another step towards Dan at that but he still did it and Dan remained glued to his spot.

“Sure,” Dan just watched and Phil kept getting closer.

“Any snacks?”

“I think there's still something left in the pantry.”

“When should we...” Phil trailed off and his breath was on Dan's face, the distance between them shrunk to a minimum without them still touching.

“I need to finish packing,” Dan's voice was quiet, almost inaudible at that and his throat was dry. His heart was fast, but it was full of heaviness.

Because he knew even before it happened, he could see it in those oddly coloured blue eyes as it played out in them before it happened in reality.

The hand on his cheek was warm and unexpectedly soft, but the fingers were trembling slightly, and Dan felt how that tremor entered his lungs, his breath unsteady when he released it finally.

There was heat on his mouth and it made him want to let it envelop him forever just as much as he wanted to push it away. His hands found that worn front of Phil's t-shirt and his fingers curled into it, not pulling nor pushing, just holding on tightly.

He squeezed his eyes shut before the warm lips touched his own, the press light and soft. It started a feeling at Dan's chest cavity that expanded further and without a thought he leaned in briefly.

But before Phil could respond even more, Dan retreated, pulling back though his eyes remained shut and his fingers still clung to the shirt. He bit at his lips where he could taste Phil, and it was so easy to imagine that it could work, that it would be right. He knew it was a hopeful lie his mind was conjuring though and he could feel those eyes on him and that hand on his cheek still.

“I can't, Phil,” The confession spilled and the lightness in his being turned heavier with every heartbeat, “Not now.”

The hand disappeared and Dan slowly opened his eyes. What he saw, was painfully breathtaking.

There was a faint blush on Phil's pale cheeks and his eyes were liquified sapphires in their shine, dark in their pain. His lips, though barely disturbed, had reddened and Dan wanted nothing more to taste them again, but instead he released his hold on the shirt, stepped back away and looked at the ceiling for a moment to compose himself.

“Why?” It was so quiet, so full of pain that it stabbed right at Dan's heart. It made it hard to speak though Dan knew the reasons even before he had put them into words.

“I can't do this to you, not now,” He began and it seemed like the pain began to cut deeper lines into Phil's face. “I want to, I really do,” Dan promised as sincerely as he could, bringing his hands up to his chest, fingers curled a little, “But I will ruin you if I do this now. You need to learn to coexist with yourself first again, with your past and future. You need to find the path, and the happiness that comes from within. I'll ruin it all.”

The tear that rolled down Phil's cheek drew a crater on his face, as deep as a crack in his whole soul and Dan wished nothing more but to reach out and hold the man in one piece. Yet he retained the distance; though they stood so close still, it felt likes long miles apart at that moment.

“I'm not telling you no,” Dan continued on and Phil looked away, angrily blinking away the wetness in his eyes, bringing his wrist up to rub at the wet cheek.

“I promise, Phil,” He let his hands fall by his sides, fingers still curled to keep himself from reaching out, “You need yourself first and I'm here, I will be as long as you want me, but I need you to need yourself before that.”

“Alright,” Phil croaked out, cleared his throat and looked at Dan, and repeated, “Alright.”

Dan was taken aback by that heaviness of the gaze, where demons and angels fought behind the visible. Where the determination and doubt didn't know to coexist yet and where there were the strings of addictive and anxious habits still seeping through the cracks.

“I'll try. I'll do it, even if it takes all I have got.”

And as they stood there, staring at one another with their hearts full and eyes dark, they understood that it was far from over.

**======**

**Epilogue**

**======**

The clinking of cups against the saucers and spoons within them surrounded Dan as he sat in the already-familiar corner of the cafe that he frequented quite often over the past few months with a cup of black coffee. Even if the sun was warming the world from behind the grey clouds, he opted for the scalding hot drink, knowing that it would likely turn cold before he would be even half done with it.

Expectant dark eyes kept glancing up at the door whenever he drew his attention away from the phone screen where Dan was wasting his time playing a game.

He was just late, Dan had to remind himself each and every time when he saw somebody else enter or exit the cafe instead of the mousey-haired man. Just late, and nothing else had happened. There was no reason to worry.

The bell above the door chimed again when the door opened and a hooded figure appeared, and when he looked up and right at Dan, it was Phil whose face bloomed with a smile which Dan keenly returned along with a brief wave, relief washing over the younger man. Phil just nodded towards the counter and Dan understood. So he sat back, pushing his phone around on the table lazily as he watched Phil order, how he managed to make the barista laugh about something, and how his hands would fly in the air when he joined the laughter briefly.

He seemed to be well, Dan thought, and brought his cup up to sip at the coffee when Phil was standing around the counter, looking at the muffin selection.

It warmed Dan's chest. It was a nice reassurance to see Phil doing well when he knew that they wouldn't get the chance to meet up very soon again.

“Hello stranger,” Phil greeted when he carefully set his drink on the table across from Dan, causing Dan to grin.

“A shady gentleman approaching me? Not sure if I should run away yet.”

He could see Phil roll his eyes before he tugged his hood off and took a seat, his fingers instantly starting to dance on the table surface. Dan gave a questioning look at the tapping digits over another sip of his coffee and instantly Phil stopped, only to resume, slower, a moment later.

“So how are you?” Dan prompted when Phil only sat there, holding onto the handle of the mug, his other hand's fingers still dancing around the same way whenever they did when Phil wasn't sure how to express something.

“I've attended the meetings, Joseph is making sure that I do--” Phil automatically began only to stop when Dan shook his head and interrupted.

_“How are you?”_

Phil paused and settled back into his seat, his stance relaxing visibly before he rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm good,” He finally answered but the smile was lacking and Dan waited until he would continue with a faint laugh, “I still can't believe that you'll be all the way in Northern Ireland for almost a year.”

To that Dan bit at the inside of his cheek, offering Phil an apologetic smile, “Duty calls,” He explained meekly and Phil nodded.

“I understand. You're great at your work,” He swished the coffee in the mug, the dark liquid coming dangerously close to spilling over the edges, “It's just that I will miss you.”

Dan had expected that, his own heart aching whenever he was reminded that he would have to be away for so long. He'd grown too used to Phil's presence. Though they didn't live together anymore, the frequent outings to coffee shops and parks, and sometimes to a fair here and there had become something that Dan was looking forward to. The few evenings they spent at one of their flats (Dan temporarily had managed to rent a place while working out the details for his next job and filling in reports concerning the one with Phil), playing games or watching something allowed for conversations to bloom, for more thoughts and feelings to be shared, concerns and realities. The moments of just relaxing to the tunes of different music or just to the sound of each other as they were lying down.

It all had become a dear part of Dan's days and to leave it all behind seemed like an almost excruciating though he never let himself crack.

They had an agreement, after all.

Teeth raked over lip for a moment before Phil jumped in his seat as he remembered something, in turn startling Dan who nearly spilled his coffee all over himself, now cursing under his breath as he grabbed the napkin to wipe up the dribble down his chin. To that Phil just looked at him sheepishly until Dan was done, “I forgot to tell you about the news.”

“About the upcoming election or…?” Dan prompted while crumpling up the dirty napkin, and Phil tossed a piece of his own paper napkin at Dan for it to only flutter and nearly land in Phil's drink instead.

“Shut up, it's important.”

“Go on.”

Phil gave Dan a big smile, and even before the news were pronounced, Dan felt the relief washing over him, “They accepted my application!”

“That's amazing, Phil!” Dan exclaimed so loudly that several people looked over at them but he ignored them all, fully focused on Phil, “When do you start?”

Phil, a rather dark blush on his cheeks, couldn't help smiling widely as he stared down at the table shyly. He answered only after another sip of his drink, as if his throat had gone dry out of some kind of worry, “They want me to start assisting next week, all the basic procedures about learning the semantics of birdkeeping and then they will be directing me to get formal education in the field too. If they like me, I might get a stable job but I don't want to get my hopes up because it will take over a year of low-paid internship for any kind of stable decision.”

Dan ignored all the what ifs in Phil's voice and instead leaned forward on the table and without thinking reached out to put his hand over Phil's when the fingers began tapping once again, and instantly they calmed. “Phil, you're a bright guy, you'll get it. I believe in you,” Dan assured while Phil's eyes were downcast to look at their hands, and there was a softness that found its way into the expression.

He didn't remove his hand right away, but when he did he did it slowly, letting his fingertips trace the knuckles lightly before he grabbed a hold of his cup again instead, “Who would have known I'd get the meet the future Steve Irwin.”

Phil just made a face at Dan then, “I'm not going to be kissing reptiles, I have a feeling you haven't seen what a bird looks like.” He paused and the tip of his tongue found it's way between his teeth in a cheeky manner, “I guess I should take you to the zoo now with a special tour by le Philippe!” 

Dan snorted, laughing hard and full and Phil soon joined.

The world around them didn't really matter that much anymore.

=====

“Can you hear me now?” The voice crackled over the laptop and it took Dan a moment of tinkering around until he managed to plug in his headphones and he sat back in the dark of the room.

“Hey Phil,” He smiled at the other man over the Skype call, clearly noting the way Phil's camera quality was really low still, indicating that he hadn't yet gotten around to buying that new laptop that he'd been talking about the last time.

There was a pause and he almost asked if Phil was still there when the other man's face changed and the chuckle that escaped him was soft even over the old microphone, “Hey yourself.”

“You wanted to tell me about the school,” Dan reminded after the two had sat there for several minutes silently, just looking at their screens and Dan was sure it was for the same reason, but he never talked about it.

“Right, right,” Phil shifted and the whole video blurred for a moment until Dan could see the familiar corner of Phil's bedroom before Phil returned with a book and holding it up at the camera, “Can you guess how many breeds have they described here? It's insane how much they want us to learn in just the first month alone!”

Though the book clearly stated a thousand, Dan just gave way to the amusement and guessed a whole of two birds.

It was easy how the conversations seemed to flow and it was times like these that he longed for London so much more. As much as he liked Whiteabbey, it didn't have the one thing that he longed for the most.

So he allowed himself to indulge in late-night conversation until the clock struck three in the morning and he knew that both of them would have to face their days sleep deprived. It didn't matter though, because for once life seemed happy.

=====

“I talked to my parents,” Phil announced one day when they started the call and Dan could instantly see that who he was faced with was a thoughtful Phil, his mind way too full.

Dan had sent a bunch of paperwork and had had several calls with Phil's father after his contract had finished. He had heard the disbelief still but there was a little something that had seemed hopeful and Dan had placed his hopes on that. Somehow he had never discussed any of that with Phil, so he didn't know what to expect.

“How did it go?” Finally he asked, when Phil remained silent, looking at his hands instead up at the camera.

“I mean they didn't end up yelling at me, so I guess it went fine?” It seemed like Phil wasn't sure about what he was saying and so he fell silent again and the static of the call began to take over.

“What are you going to do?” Finally Dan asked, shifting the laptop closer and onto the pile of paperwork he was filling in for his latest completed job in Newcastle.

“I really don't know,” Phil paused and after a moment of thought he finally added, “I think I need to create some distance. I don't think we can get back to who we were anymore.”

Dan nodded, understanding what Phil meant.

=====

He seemed a little flushed when the call began and Dan was sitting on his suitcase in the small hotel in Gloucester, phone in his hand as he waited at the reception for his room to be cleaned before he could enter it.

“You look like you've been exercising,” Dan commented fondly before looking up to check if anyone was paying attention to him; a six two man, holding his phone comically close to his face while skyping, voice low though the microphone was in the headphone cable next to his face.

Phil just rolled his eyes at him while taking off his glasses to wipe his face with a towel. “I just got out of the shower,” He explained, “I have to meet with Joseph and then the lunch with Martyn and his girlfriend.”

He turned the laptop as he got up to begin rummaging through the closet, throwing random pieces of clothing on the bed, “I know they have been together for a while now, but I haven't met her and I want to make a good impression.”

Dan was just a little bit distracted by the half-naked state of the other man, only to jump when the receptionist poked him on the shoulder. His cheeks were ablaze when he tugged off his headphones to accept the key and the instructions from the woman.

All in all he felt happy that Phil was reconciling with his brother; despite everything, Dan had felt that Phil missed him whenever Martyn had been off-handedly mentioned in their skype calls.

=====

“-- So basically I will be moving back up North, to Leeds, next week, and the time between the two contracts is so short, I won't be able to even do as much as visit my family on the way not to mention stopping by anywhere else,” Dan explained, the voice tired and borderline a whine when he explained the situation while collecting the dirty clothes from around the room into one pile so he could do the laundry before his trip still.

“And I got you a magnet as you asked,” Dan noticed the paper package on the table, before turning towards his laptop. Even at his most attentive, Phil tended to make noise in the background so the silence was curious.

What he saw was Phil, his face smushed into the blanket and glasses crooked on his nose. The closed eyes and the even breathing was a clear indication that the man had fallen asleep and Dan took a moment to just watch him before he sat on the bed and pulled the laptop closer again.

“Phil?” He asked gently, wondering if he could wake the other man, but Phil merely shifted and the glasses pressed against the bridge of his nose more. Aside from that he didn't react, and instead began snoring very lightly.

Dan regarded him softly for a moment longer, before he whispered a good night and ended the call.

The work was taking a toll on Phil, but it seemed to do it in the best way possible. No matter the annoyance about his swift move from one side of the country to the other, Dan couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed that the other man had fallen asleep on him in the call.

On the contrary, when Dan settled in for sleep later that night, he found himself at peace when recalling the worriless expression on Phil's sleeping face.

=====

Months turned to a year, that - to two, and onwards five years had passed in a blink of an eye, and Dan found himself relieved when he finally stepped off the train in London, knowing that finally he would be able to settle for longer than a year.

He was tired of the constant moving, and though he loved his job, it began to wear him out. Dan often found himself longing for a simpler life, and as he had left Sheffield, he leaned against the windowpane and watched the world passing by with a smile. He'd found the crisis centre needed more workers and had jumped at the opportunity though the pay was bound to be lower.

When one had no stable home, money lost all its meaning.

The air was full of smog, but he found a strange kind of comfort in it as he boarded the noisy double-decker, the luggage dragged after him clumsily, having grown over the years but it still felt much the same. Just like him, the weather roughened edges did not take away from who he was, only adding to the character and teaching him to find peace with the universe one step at a time.

Same kind of step as he took, one by one, from the bus stop to that same worn down building that he hadn't seen in years. The old cobblestone just as worn, the facade just as old and chipping. But there was light on the inside and noise pouring from one of the ajar windows and Dan couldn't help but to find it much homier and though tired, he felt energy in his limbs the closer he came.

The city behind him was as noisy as ever when he stood at the dark wooden door and brought his hand up to rattle his knuckles against it. There was that familiar echo, mixing with the music that was still going on, but it silenced soon when Dan could hear the steps on the other side, the handle of the door pressed down and opened just enough to reveal a face.

Everything about it was familiar. Though he had seen it only on the computer screen for the past years, it felt like he had seen Phil in person just the other day. But slowly he retraced the steps to the first time they had been in the exact same situation. He noted how his face was healthier though still pale, how the dark bags under his eyes had faded to more natural ones, how, though the cheekbones were still incredibly prominent, the man didn't look like he had been ill for a long time. How the eyes were not hidden behind the dark frames, staring directly at Dan.

How the lips were bowed into a large smile, open and friendly.

Phil pulled the door wide open and without a word threw his arms around Dan's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. The slightest of gasps escaped Dan's lips at that but he gladly wrapped his arms around Phil in return, pulling the other man in closer and squeezing him a little.

“I've missed you,” Phil whispered in the nook of Dan's neck, making Dan shiver, but Phil used that to hold Dan tighter and the shiver passed like it had never been there.

“You saw me just yesterday,” Dan humoured, but it was clear that it was only a mask for what he really meant, and Phil seemed to catch it because when the two parted, there was a cheek-splitting smile on Phil's face.

“Come on, come inside,” Phil motioned and Dan dragged his luggage after him while following the invite. Instantly he could see how the place had changed as much as the man who occupied it. Some of the old furniture had been exchanged by new one, and there were small things accumulating in some of the shelves where the untouched books had been before. It looked like Phil's place more now, not just a shelter where he had been abandoned.

There were even some plants lining the window sills and a one giant pot in the corner.

It looked more like home and it made Dan instantly feel warm.

He felt eyes on him and turned to see Phil who didn't look away even when caught staring.

“You really fit in,” Phil explained without being asked.

“And you dyed your hair,” Dan motioned at the black fringe now covering Phil's forehead instead of the mousey one.

“I used to dye it as a teenager, so I decided to try again,” Phil shifted at that, looking away for a moment before eying Dan almost pleadingly, “Is it bad?”

Slowly Dan slid off the strap of his backpack, dropping it on the floor near the corner where he'd done it before what seemed decades ago, and he inched closer to Phil who was trying to read Dan's expression but it was clear that he couldn't tell what was going on in Dan's mind.

He reached out, and Phil's eyes automatically followed the movement of the hand, making him go a little cross-eyed. It was endearing and Dan wanted to laugh, so he allowed a low, soft sound ring in his throat before he finally reached out enough to brush the fringe slightly to the side. “I like it,” He finally gave his verdict and when he drew his hand away a little, Phil's Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, a faint tint of red in his cheeks.

Phil, as if adorned by the small touch, remained on the spot, his eyes clear sea when he looked at Dan whose gaze was soft liquid chocolate when he reached out again to brush his thumb lightly over the blush. “I've missed you too,” Finally Dan admitted to the previous exchange.

He could feel the eyes on him when he turned to walk further into the flat, slowly as if he was unsure if his presence would change it back to what it had been before. But nothing changed, everything remained like it had been just moments ago and when he looked over his shoulder Phil was still stood where he had left him and he looked the happiest that Dan had ever had the pleasure to experience.

“Oh!” Phil as if pinched suddenly jumped, remembering, “I prepared some food, so how about we dine and catch up?”

Though they had spoken so often in the past years, Dan nodded happily.

=====

The clanging of the utensils against the plates was like a white noise in the background of their conversation. It had taken precisely half a minute in the meal before Dan had made a comment and Phil had laughed and returned it with one of his strange sayings that they had fallen into that familiar easy banter again. Shy smiles turned to full-on grins and small touches were exchanged when Phil passed the salad bowl and Dan had reached out to place the souvenir magnets that he had promised Phil into Phil's open hands.

“I feel like I could sleep for a month,” Dan, while leaning back into the seat, patted his belly that shamefully bulged a little more than it had pre-meal.

“And make me wait on your reply to my impeccable bird memes all that time? I think not,” Phil softly argued and leaned back to mimic Dan, just as equally full after the dinner. The scented candles placed in the middle of the table between them filled the air with more artificial scents than the food had, and as they entered Dan's nostrils he felt the sleepiness begin take over like soft cotton.

“Should we head upstairs?” Phil asked, drawing Dan out of his sleepy state.

“Someone's become frisky,” Dan commented and the change of Phil's facial colour would have been concerning in any other case but now it made Dan laugh so much he had to hold a hand on his stomach.

Phil just hid his face in his hands at that, kicking at Dan under the table. “I got my hands on the movie you asked for!!!” His voice was higher by several notches and it just made Dan laugh harder until tears sprung to his eyes.

It took him a while to calm down and when Dan looked up again, wiping at his eyes, his gaze met with Phil's. The older man was still red, but it had faded a little and something about the expression caught Dan off-guard; it was like being wrapped in the warmest and softest of blankets, where nothing could ever hurt you.

It felt like home and hope.

It felt right.

=====

The clock announced eleven thirty in the evening when Dan was in the hallway by the front door again, kneeling to tie up his shoes while Phil leaned up against the wall, hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

Dan felt cold.

For over an hour and a half, the two of them had been on the old couch that had found its residence in Phil's bedroom, taking up a lot of the remaining space but making for a cozier movie watching seat. It had been quick that they were pressed up close to each other, every little movement of either resonating in the other. And before they knew it, they had ended up lying on the couch with Dan's back pressed up against Phil's chest, their legs tangled and Phil's arm lazily draped over Dan's waist. It barely affected the amount of comments and the laughter, the movie absolutely ridiculous as branded by Dan very early on and Phil made the reluctant decision to agree about three minutes later when the dog in the movie had started talking with poorly added special effects to move its mouth.

But as much fun as it had been, eventually it had come to an end and Dan had a hotel room waiting for him, and apartment viewing tomorrow. Both knew that it was not the end, but it was mournful in the hallway anyway.

And Dan had never taken this long to tie his shoes.

Finally they were done though and he stood up to full height, smoothing out his shirt before he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on without looking up. It was only when his hand rested on the handle of his suitcase that he finally met Phil's eyes and though Phil tried to smile, the corner of his mouth twitched and the smile disappeared.

“So then,” Dan awkwardly tapped his open palm against his pocket, “I will text you when I get to the hotel and we can figure out when to hang out again?”

“Sure,” Phil replied and the silence was heavy between them, so much left unsaid in the air, but it seemed that neither of them could force themselves to say it, “So I'll see you soon?”

It was hopeful but the feeling only weighed his heart down, and Dan swallowed, nodding and biting at his lip. “It was nice,” He motioned randomly at the flat, “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“So I guess it's a bye for now.”

“I guess it is. It was really nice to have you over.”

“Yeah...”

“...”

“Alright, I should be off,” Dan finally tightened his grip around the handle and offered Phil a smile, small and weak but he tried his best to keep it true, and then turned before Phil had the moment to try to return it.

He dragged the suitcase behind him and pressed down the door knob.

The noise of the night city flowed in from the street and the wind felt cold as it played in the folds of Dan's clothes, and he shivered slightly.

He heard the steps behind him, three, to be exact, and suddenly he felt Phil close behind him again, as he spoke lowly, but it was full and heavy, “Dan,” It halted Dan instantly, body and mind, and he listened, “Please, can you stay the night?”

He could feel him close, almost feeling the breath ghosting on the back of his neck.

He could feel the warmth that wanted to envelop him again.

He felt the buzz of each little touch and the promises fulfilled and maintained.

He felt how his heart ached to say the single word.

“Yes,” Dan replied and the door to the outside world shut with a soft click.


End file.
